Of All the Things About Fai
by Stripes that Parallel
Summary: Kurogane was determined to break the porcelain mask, to expose the true Fai. And through months, years, and random notes of countless characteristics, he already had. Post-series. Drabbles about Fai's characteristics, written in Kurogane's point of view.
1. Eyes

**Anime: Tsubasa Chronicle**

**Genre: Humor, Drama**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: A porcelain mask was fixed to his face, the façade ceasing to crumble. Yet, through the months, the years, Kurogane was determined to break the mask, to expose the true Fai. And, through all the things he had realized about the blonde, countless, pointless details, he already had. Post-series. Drabbles about Fai's characteristics, written in Kurogane's point of view.**

**Warning! There are several delicious little spoilers for this series if you haven't finished it, so beware~**

**

* * *

****Of All the Things about Fai**

My first impression of Fai was that he was an idiot. Not exactly stupid—though, don't get me wrong, he could be one hell of a moron at times—but because he lacked common sense.

He possessed a gift, able to lure someone into believing what he wanted them to believe. Nothing was wrong, nothing ever would be. A mask, sheer, hazed, and porcelain, kept his true feelings hidden, and exposed only what he desired. Fake smiles. Lighthearted cheerfulness. A simple façade that would fool anyone who only dared to scrape the surface.

However, I wasn't like that.

As time dragged on, I dug into his soul. I was searching out every inch of him, determined to figure out why he was so twisted… So desperate.

I suppose at first, I was really just trying to break the mage. I found his playful follies complete nuisances and would do anything in my power to slap that grin off his face; to get a glimpse at the real Fai. Eventually I figured out those hazed secrets, and I started to slacken off, maybe even feel bad for him a little. No one had any idea how horrible his past had been, or what he had gone through. So when I figured out why he was the way he was, I began to want to help him. He was unstable and broken, reaching out for someone, something, to try to bring him back to sanity; if it could even be said that he was lingering off of it. One word brought up one memory. One thought would stream to so many quotes, so many torturous reminisces.

That was what I desired to break.

After some time, Sakura and Syaoran began to see it, too—the way his mask was slipping. And it wasn't easy for them to break through and see this. For the longest time, it wasn't easy for me.

I suppose for you to figure out Fai, like I did, and Syaoran and Sakura, and eventually everyone else close to him, I'll have to start you off in the simplest way I can. So, I'll start from the beginning.

. : : .

Fai's eyes were blue.

Cornflower blue. Icy blue. Pale.

They had a way of piercing through you like an arrow—though, I suppose, any pale eyes could do that, especially if they were blue. At first glance, any girl would melt. His eyes were without question a sea of gentleness and a serene delicacy that would attract anyone's gaze twice. He had a way with those eyes, being able to seem so content, yet so distraught at the same time.

His eyes were his weakness. What would be the first to let emotion seep through. Even when the most believable of smiles lay prominently on his lips, his eyes would be an unexplainable contrast.

It was the one way he could show his intimidation, annoyance, or even the slightest hint of a threat if someone had crossed a line, while still being able to seem unfazed. I was the first to notice it, for though his eyes were his weakness, they, like his smiles, were heavily controlled. I was able to easily indentify when a certain glance was fake.

As time dragged on, the true emotion in those eyes grew more and more noticeable…along with something else.

The color of those eyes, cornflower blue, icy, pale, were the source of his magic. And when the time came, in the wrong place at the wrong time—or simply just the inevitably Yuuko so heavily spoke of—Fai's left eye was ripped from his socket for that very reason.

I took drastic steps to save him, steps that I knew I wouldn't dare to take had I not grown so suspicious of the mage, and admittedly, so close.

It was embarrassing, really, to realize how selfish the decision was. How I knew I had made a hole so deep in his chest, just creating another wound I had to heal. Was it because my head was so fixed on breaking him? So determined to figure him out, to get closer and try to shine light in those threateningly dark areas…?

At that time, yes.

. : : .

Fai's eye was gold.

His pupil had turned to a vertical feline slit, and the soft gaze that had been so common was gone now. Greif replaced it, agony and guilt, and so much bitterness. So much more uncertainty.

His mask was slipping, to the point where at certain moments, he would be there, all of him, staring deathly silent back at you without a reply or any form of conversation. He was quiet, timid, and constantly doubtful when the mask had slipped. Without it, he was a lost child unsure of what to do.

It took longer now for his mask to snap itself back into place, and his eyes were constantly revealing how he truly felt. His smiles were rare, and when they did appear, definitely fake ones. But one day, I swear I caught a genuine smile appear.

A smile that shone in his eyes.

. : : .

Fai's eye was gold, permanently now.

The emotion that shone in them was raw and pure, no longer fake. His smiles were genuine, his soul was lighter. So much had happened, and with it, change. The mask was nearly gone now.

I had to admit, I felt rather proud. It was my handiwork, after all. I suppose I didn't help it all that much, since half the time I was only making more ruts in the road, and it was a very bumpy ride to get the mage back on track. But when he did show his true colors, everything shone gorgeously in a sea of liquid gold, and the smiles shone both in his eye and on his lips.

But my work wasn't done yet. There were still many things I had to cure, things I had set out for myself to accomplish.

During that time, I had no idea how committed I had been to breaking through that façade and trying to bring him back to stability. But the more I think about it, the more I realize where Fai would be without that.

For one thing, his smiles would be sorrowful, struggling to appear believable. His soul would be sinking rapidly, as it had been before. His gaze would become more and more uncertain until a random passerby could immediately see this man was broken and cold, just from his eyes.

But now, his gaze was cheerful, lighthearted, and genuine. And even more stunning when their natural color returned.

. : : .

Fai's eyes were blue.

* * *

**There's the end of the first chapter. This idea came rather quick to me, as did several others, while I was sitting bored in Civics. So, these humor and drama-filled shortnesses were born~! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, just as a start to get us kicked off. This is how the chapters will start, just shooting off into some random characteristic. Angst and fluff abound! I love feedback, so feel free to sponge some ideas ^ ^- **


	2. Hair

Fai's hair was blonde.

Feathery, platinum, run-your-hands-through-all-day-because-it's-so-damn-silky, swear to god he uses women's shampoo, blonde.

It was a pleasant contrast to his skin, his eyes, caressing his face in feathery layers that cast enigmatic shadows to the pale orbs and sifting across his head like fabric. I didn't give much thought to it (I mean, come on, I'm a little more manly then that to notice anything more than the appearance of someone's hair) even though I always wondered, idly, if those locks were just as soft as they looked.

There was something about his hair I found strangely intriguing, and I grew curious. One time I even questioned if it was a wig. For a guy, his hair was just too styled without being styled, too flawless, too natural to be real...as contradictory as that sounds. And so, I was curious. Can't blame me, right? I mean, I had seen a hell of a lot of heads of hair along our journey, but nothing compared to his.

I pushed it off after a while. It was a ridiculous thought, anyway, and my attention expanded to other things like fixing my stupid katana that a demon cracked in half, trying to keep my role as the typical head of the pack (even though Syaoran basically took control most of the time, yet even admitted he wasn't the best at it), realizing the kids actually weren't as younger than me as I thought they were—Syaoran was sixteen and a half and the princess had just turned that age when I was twenty-three—and, most importantly, keeping the damn pork bun off my food supply.

Then, of course, the thought returned, and as pathetic as it sounds it started bugging me. Sometimes I wanted to kick myself for it. _It was hair_. Whoop-dee-doo. Big deal.

However, my brain refused to accept that. So, finally, irritated, on a warm day in June when the others were fooling around outside in the courtyard and Fai just happened to be a little ways away from me, I sat down, ignoring how obvious it was, and simply stared at his hair. I had figured that doing something as ridiculous as that might stop the constant turmoil in my brain.

At first, I was just examining the overall appearance of it. His hair was platinum blonde, silver in the moonlight and an icy gold in the sun. It seemed as if it were layered all over, his long bangs feathered over his face, parted to the left. Those light layers fluttered at every movement or breeze, as did his bangs, which would slide off to one side when he turned his head or get a casual flip if he brushed them back. Shorter locks before his ears curved inwards lightly and caressed his cheeks, and occasionally he would tuck them behind one ear if they annoyed him. On the other hand, doing that to his bangs was a lost cause, as they would constantly slip back over his ears and fall in his face again. He must have grown accustomed to hair always flipping in and out of his gaze, because he hardly paid heed to it.

So I noticed these things—still thinking how absurd this was—and watched how the breeze reacted with the light layers. But then my thoughts started wandering, noticing how his hair seemingly flowed with that breeze, how it spiraled like spun silk off his face and then curved back to meet his skin, like forming some sort of an odd embrace. I wondered what his hair would look like in different styles, different colors—stupid things like that.

When I had felt a tap on my shoulder, I looked up only to see the man I had been staring at gazing at me curiously, and naturally, I spazzed and bolted away, making up a cheap excuse.

It was the last time I stared at his hair. Well…at least…just his hair.

. : : .

It was quite some time later, nearly two years, I think, that we found ourselves sitting in the living room of Yuuko's shop, which was deceivingly massive and not only served as a wonderful funhouse of doom but also as a home for the witch, and was elaborately decorated with exotic furniture, and constantly smelled of perfume, incense, Watanuki's cooking, and the tobacco she smoked. It was the second time we had personally visited the witch, since half the time we were either chasing monkeys in some African country or breaking our asses trying to climb a mountain near the Himalayas (another charade for a feather, of course). Getting to some civilization was a heavenly change of pace.

So I had thought the first time.

I knew Yuuko was an obnoxious woman just by seeing her behind a paper-thin projection, but to be around her in person? Good god, don't get me started.

That said, the second time we arrived, I immediately disclosed that I was in hell and tried to run away. But the others dragged me into it and I didn't have much choice, so there we were, four in the afternoon, sitting in the living room of the witch.

"Oh, my dears, it's so marvelous you've come back!" Yuuko had cheered, a circle of blush on one cheek. She dumped us into her living room and ranted off about how long it had been and what had happened at the shop, though I could've cared less. For the longest time she babbled about Maru and Moro and what Larg, the black Mokona, had done (the one we traveled with was Soel, which was white—Larg was apparently male and Soel female, but halfway through that tiresome explanation years ago I flipped it off and concluded both of them were transgender), and talk about Domeki and Watanuki and Himiwari.

And she talked. And talked. And the kids talked. And Fai talked. And the Mokonas talked. And then the rest of the damn bunch came in and more talk.

Needless to say, after three hours of such bicker, my ears were fried. I grabbed some decent alcohol from the kitchen and returned, and just guess what their conversation had turned to? Well, Fai's hair, of course.

. : : .

"Good lord," Yuuko cooed, eyes wide and sparkly. She glanced all around the room and finally looked back at me, a huge open grin on her face, hands entangled in Fai's hair. Fai's hair had grown out and was in a ponytail, which suited him well, and I had shut off my ears those last fifteen minutes to where Yuuko had turned to tables to talk about Fai's hair. But really, to take such steps as to plow her hands through his hair like that… I tilted my head as she blabbered, hardly listening. Maybe his hair really was silky.

"Kuro-sensei!" Yuuko blurted, noticing I had come back into the room. She was smiling like an idiot as her hands threaded through Fai's hair. "Come here, you _must_ see this! See how soft Fai's hair is!"

"I ain't a teacher," I snapped dryly. "And who the hell strokes someone's hair like that?" I found the action outrageous, absurd, and outrageously absurd.

"Fai-san, your hair is amazing," Yuuko blubbered, and Fai, who was blushing and sweatdropping lightly, gave a mousy reply of, "T-Thank you," while the other two, curious, went over and touched his hair, then spat out similar replies in shock. I rolled my eyes—this was ridiculous.

"Come on, this is pointless," I snapped, finally giving in and going to the others. Yuuko wouldn't shut up, and when the kids finally withdrew their hands from the poor man's hair, I got it out of my system—and also just to shut Yuuko up—and did as the others had. My fingers sunk into his hair, and then I froze.

Good lord. His hair _was_ silky. Outrageously silky.

Yuuko looked at me smugly, brows quirked, and I scoffed. "What?"

"Well, you're stroking his hair," Yuuko replied, and I froze again. I hadn't really noticed what I was doing until now, and without comprehending it my face flamed. My hands almost immediately found my pockets, and Fai just chuckled up at me.

Fai's hair ended up being the highlight event of that lovely little visit, and the kids didn't shut up about it for the days that followed. Yuuko refused to forget the silkiness, which greatly annoyed me. Then again…neither did I.

Fai's hair was platinum blonde. Feathery, layered, smooth as silk. And I of all people knew—after that one day, it seemed like I couldn't get my hands off his hair.

* * *

**Chapter two is up, whoo! I'm so fricken relieved to find a fanfic I can actually continue, because things like these can go on and on and on, so (hopefully) I shall never hit writer's block xD (That's a lovely habit of mine). Anywho, I was sick this weak with sinuses/cold/flu, which is a total pain, but that gave me more of an excuse to work on this~ I meant to have this submitted yesterday, but I wanted to go through the editing first, so here it is first thing this morning...ish. Again, I love to hear reviews and ideas, so feel free to leave some ^ ^**


	3. Talents

Fai excelled at countless things.

He was charismatic, artistic, talented in several aspects. But one thing, something that was obvious from the third day I had known him, was that this man was one hell of a chef. From biscotti to gnocchi, breads and cheeses, meats, poultry, fish, and surprisingly sushi (though God knows he despised eating it), he could singlehandedly prepare it without effort.

Potential in culinary arts isn't something that surprises me; I think everyone has a little of it under their skin (excusing myself, considering I've been known to somehow manage burning water on several occasions). However, as always, this thought was altered when on our third day in the Hanshin Republic, I was not only surprised, but yet another opinion of him had been changed. He was still a dumbass idiot…but at least his food was good.

. : : .

Hanshin Republic. Some year in the future, or maybe around standard timing. I would come to know, switching between worlds so much, the time difference didn't give a damn.

This place was extremely strange. For starters, it was either filled with whimps, citizens who treated robberies and punk fights like the norm, or two gangs, the constant battle between those three hundred-pound fatasses and the mob of anorexics supplied by possessed balls of water and fire. That about summed it up for tourists, and after our first two days enduring an ADHD husband and his polar opposite long-haired-lesbian of a wife, we were nearly kneeling down in joy after the princess gave us an excuse to get out of the house; relief quickly turned to annoyance (and panic, for Syaoran) when we found out that Sakura had turned into a zombie again and gone off in a trance.

So, the search was on. And we searched. And searched. Lowly conversation from Fai, who at that time was still heavily concealed by his mask, and Mokona, bouncing around me shouting nonsense, was driving me insane. Eventually we found the princess and trudged back to the house, where the couple eagerly awaited us. As usual, the husband, Sorata, was pleased we were able to find the princess and gathered details on the "mission", until his wife, Arashi, was able to shut him up by countering other news: they would be gone most of the morning, out for shopping, but would be back by the late evening.

The news ticked me off immediately. So they invited us in, got us all comfortable, then they pull a, "Oh, thank you for coming, take care of yourselves now!" on us? I glared at Sorata; he whimpered and cowered behind his wife, and Arashi simply sweatdropped and apologized for his behavior. To make matters worse, she decided they would leave early. And leave early they did.

It seemed to be starting out just brilliantly for all of us. At least we had decided to try some vender food before we came back.

"I, ah…suppose we should go to bed, then," Syaoran had offered. Without much choice, everyone went off to bed and found their selected sleeping areas, myself on the floor. Fai and Syaoran were sharing a bed since Syaoran insisted on taking the floor since Fai had done so the night before, and Fai insisting it was fine, both of them too mannerly to make a damn decision; I had taken it instead and left them to argue no longer. The princess had departed to her separate room.

The flooring was as hard as a rock and the other two were unaccustomed to sleeping on a futon, so despite our restful faces, it was doubtful any of us got an hour of sleep that night.

During the next morning, however, I was quickly awakened to the smell of something ravishing and delicious. Food. I looked around the room. Syaoran was here, the princess walking in still in pink pajamas with messy hair, rubbing her eyes, but Fai wasn't. My brows furrowed. Surely the damn mage hadn't created the scent that was making my mouth water. He couldn't cook. Impossible.

I rushed downstairs, half dressed, careless that I was storming out of the room and tripping halfway down the stairs like a moron—this was a habit of mine, anyway. First to the food. And if this food was as good as it smelled, I'd be on my third plate in fifteen minutes.

When I rounded the corner, there, in the kitchen, in a pale blue and white-striped apron, stood none other than Fai. He glanced up at me and smiled softly, another one of his fake ones, and waved a spatula in my direction.

"Morning, Kuro-buro~," he said cheerily. "Want some breakfast?"

So he did make it. Omelets, bacon, pancakes, sausage, orange juice, milk…the guy had a fricken spread. I stared. At first I refused to buy it, less eat the damn food, but Jesus Christ, it looked delicious… I grabbed a plate, blindly piling things on—all the while giving him a suspicious glare—and forked some of the omelet to my mouth. That was the first time I had tasted his food, and definitely not the last.

Three plates later, I sat at the kitchen table with a satisfied stomach. Syaoran and Sakura were still eating, Mokona continuing to stuff its face, and neither of them fell silent in their praise for Fai's skill. The mage just smiled and thanked them. When everyone was finished, he looked directly and me and commented on how I had seemed to enjoy breakfast, and I blurted a hasty retort of, "Shaddup, I was hungry."

. : : .

Whenever Fai stepped in to make meals on our journey, I would secretly make it a priority to be the first to get a plate. It was selfish and ridiculous, but at that time I hardly knew him and could have cared less. Sushi and pork buns were something I favored, so whenever such dishes were made (which was rare) I would sneak another bun off the plate, or grab some spare sushi, acting like it was for someone else. When Mokona would hop around carrying some pastry Fai had made, I would snatch it from its little paws before it even knew what had happened and would quickly wipe the powdered sugar off the side of my mouth. Only when Syaoran made a comment about wondering where those paws had been did I never do such a crime again, and I still haven't to this day. Really, how do you _know_ where the damn rabbit…thing…had been?

I suppose Fai really began to notice it as our journey progressed. One little glare silenced me completely. The guy really was just too good at cooking.

. : : .

Now, likewise, being a chef wasn't the only thing Fai was good at. He had several different talents, most of them having wide varieties with hardly any connection. Fai could cook and make up one hell of a public speech. I had already figured that out. Two weeks into our journey, I found out Fai could sing.

We had landed in a spare country, almost like a pit-stop, mostly to collect some provisions and take some time off from the battles and hours of feather-finding we had endured. This world was very small, with it a miniscule population, but had an odd relation to music.

There were hundreds of technologies we had scarcely heard of before. iPods. MP3s. Laptops and Computers. Televisions. Radios. Anything entertainment-wise that could have some connection to the life of sound, it was here.

Syaoran quickly found a hotel room for us to rest in for the night, and everyone seemed pleased for a change of pace, especially Fai. Around midday, the others decided they would go for a walk. Fai kindly said he would stay back, for whatever reason, and though I wasn't the walking type I didn't want to get stuck with him. I still didn't like this world, though. It was suspicious and the alleys here were dark. By the time we had made our way out of the foyer, I realized I had forgotten my katana, and despite my inner groan of annoyance, I trudged back upstairs to get it.

And there I found him.

Singing.

It was in a foreign language, something I couldn't understand. But the way his voice—very quiet, though, as if absently flowing words to a tune without the intention of being heard—rose and fell without effort, streaming across the room like silk, something melancholic, gentle, almost like a lullaby. He was tidying up the room we had stayed in, dispersing the evidence of the pillow fight Mokona had engaged. Then his voice switched to something different, lower and punkier, along of the lines of "Dance, dance" and "apart to half-time." I hadn't really focused on the lyrics. I just stood in the hall, listening, not letting him see me, not looking at him. He certainly had picked up the language fast.

. : : .

Fai could cook. Fai could sing. He could make effortless speeches and conceal himself behind a perfect, flawless mask. So far, I suppose I've just been saying positive things about him, things that I found out in order along the journey, or things I noticed. But, as with everyone, there is always a negative side, and Fai's negative side was dark, horrid, swimming in a sea of thick black.

I was welcomed to that other side at three in the morning, in Ōto Country, to the sound of a single ear-piercing scream.

* * *

**Alrighty, chapter three is up~! Sorry for the late update, school was tying me up this week. So, as you can see, we are starting to progress into the darker side of Fai's characteristics. I'm sure most of you guys hate cliffhangers, but this can also give you a preview for what to expect next time~ I love feedback, so let me know how I'm doing ^ ^**


	4. Nightmares

Fai was constantly plagued with nightmares.

Simple dreams, which would leave you confused at awakening or perhaps somewhat disturbed, while still being able to return to sleep, were not the kind of dreams he had. Fai's nightmares were unimaginable. Nightmares that wake you with uneven breath, sweat running down your back, your throat hoarse from a scream that had unconsciously slipped your lips. Out of all the travelers in our group, I least expected Fai to be the one gasping awake in deathly hours of the night. If anyone, I would have assumed the princess would have such nightmares—she was asleep half the time, it only made sense.

But no, another wrong assumption.

It was sometime deep into the night, the air humid and dark clouds steadily pouring rain that had been streaming down since early hours of the day. We were in Ōto Country at that time. I had actually been sleeping well, for once, until a ghastly, ear-piercing scream snapped me awake. I jumped so high I nearly fell out of the bed.

My mind was hazed and still subconscious, but my heart gave a single, uneven beat. I could already tell my breath had quickened from the sound. I blinked slowly, confused. At first, I wondered if it had been a demon or something in that nature. The scream had been so high and petrified, with silence following so immediately, that I hadn't even thought of the possibility of it coming from the group. Only when I remembered the close proximity of the sound, did I consider that.

Naturally, I would have tried to ward it off and return to sleep. But that night, my mind had immediately started running again, and more importantly, something else pushed me forward. I was curious.

I slid out from the sheets, bare-chested, and crept slowly to the door, sliding it open as soundlessly as possible. The house had grown deathly silent. I wondered if the kids had been awakened by the scream, as well. My legs guided myself, as my mind was elsewhere, and I continued quietly down the hall. I was still clueless as to where the sound had come from or what had produced it—

A muffled, slow breath, drawn out and uneven, stopped my thoughts.

My ears had been trained to pick up even the faintest of sounds. As a ninja, that was my job—to silently discover the enemy by using all my senses to their greatest extent.

The breathing was deep and ragged, a hint of terror still stabbing at the lungs. The tone sounded familiar, somehow, so my curiosity had only grown stronger. I found the door at the far end of the hall, brushed it open, and bestowed a dark, untouched room, a bed with strewn sheets, and a curled figure murderously latched to a pillow. His back had been facing me, but the few tufts of blonde hair poking out from comforter had given it away.

So Fai had screamed.

I remained still, and to my realization, I noticed he was dreadfully still as well. The breathing had grown terribly shallow and he refused to move, though I could distinguish the faintest hint of trembling that would appear very vaguely and then vanish. He was trying to control himself, hoarse whispers of, "Just a dream…just a dream…" sliding from his lips. I wasn't sure if I should reveal myself or not—he obviously didn't know I was there. Or maybe he did. That would explain his compulsive behavior to stay calm.

I took a single step forward, just a step, my mind too eager to get questions answered, and, ironically, my foot landed on a squeaky floor board. The lightest touch produced an abrupt squeak that, in the silence of the room, was deafening.

Fai was as motionless as stone and I had frozen in place.

Then it happened far too quickly.

A pillow unexpectedly soared to my face, from an incredibly fast, terrified lurch, and I barely managed a quick twist of my shoulders to dodge it. It flopped into the wall and I remained, neck craned to the side, in motionless shock. Did that really just happen? Did Fai, with hardly any arm strength at all, just produce so unbelievably fast of a throw?

I blinked rapidly and my focus turned to the blonde, who was now twisted on his side, another pillow tightly in his grasp. His knuckles were white.

To him, I was probably just a hulking shadow in the door. I didn't think of reflexes, or the fact that waltzing into the room of someone who had just experienced a horrifying nightmare was very naïve. At this point, I didn't know what to do. I took another step forward; the floor creaked under my now increased weight—I no longer cared about stealth, my position had been given away—and with a grunt, a second pillow was launched at me. It slammed into my face.

I hardly paid heed to it, scrambling to throw it off. Another step. "Fai—"

Two more pillows were launched at me, their aim terrible now. Fai had discarded every pillow on his bed (I was still confused as to how he managed to throw four at me when I know I had only seen two when I entered the room) and was scrambling off the mattress, tripping in the process. He backed against the wall like terrified prey, and periodic whispers of, "I'm sorry," left his mouth in a terrified hoarseness.

I stepped out from the shadows, into the moonlight coming from the windows, my figure slowly revealed. The whispers grew louder, more desperate—any second now he would scream at me to get away. I could feel it in my gut. When my face was revealed, brows heavily furrowed and my eyes a downpour of confusion, Fai's face grew blank. His eyes widened, breathing shallow. Panic struck across his features.

"K-Kuro…" he stammered, unable to get my name fully out. I could already see the horror spilling in his eyes: _You can't see me like this. Not now. _Fai brushed his bangs behind one ear, where they slipped right back over. His lips were parted and he was as pale as death.

"Fai," I said again, after a long pause, slower this time. His eyes gradually flecked to me, his hand still frozen on his face, fingers curling a few stray locks of hair behind his ear. His mask gave a single, chortling crack, until it quickly snapped back on to his face, wavering dangerously.

"I'm fine," he said suddenly. I hadn't even inquired of it, though it was obvious he wasn't. "I'm fine," he said again, breathing it out this time, almost as in reassurance to himself. He took the pillows that were closest to him, laying them back on the bed with trembling fingers, then stood there, pulse quickening by the second. He didn't know what to do, but he didn't want me here. He glanced at me again, timidly, as if giving a subconscious request for me to leave.

No way in hell would I be doing that. No freaking way.

I had finally cornered him, putting him in a position where there was no option to run away. He couldn't make up any excuses, not with us alone like this; he was vulnerable, and his mask slipping more and more. My hand guided itself and my fingers slid behind me, shutting the door. Fai's eyes widened at the small click, and my eyes met his without a trace of emotion. I had taken the chance.

I didn't step any closer to him, I just remained where I was; my breathing was deep and relaxed, his breath short with the aftermath and uncertain.

"What's going on?" I said finally. When he didn't reply, my eyes narrowed. His eyes looked more gray than they did blue, shining nervously. I stepped closer; he was still frozen in place. "Fai," his name was dull on my tongue, and I waited before repeating, "What's going on." This time, I was demanding an answer.

"I…" His words were slow and whispered, as if he had just been choked. "…I'm fine…"

"I don't give a damn," I scoffed. "I know you're not fine. You know you're not fine." Three more steps. The room was silent, and Fai eyes pierced mine in horror when I stood a mere foot and a half away from him, hardly at arm's length.

I repeated the question a third time, struggling to keep my voice soft. My temper was rapidly starting to flare, much to my annoyance. It's never been a controlled part of me.

For the third time, Fai hardly gave me so much as a syllable of an answer, and I sighed. This was more challenging than I thought. My temper took more of a hold on me and I grabbed the man's wrists, my own hands flattening against the wall to either side of his head and pinning him there. His eyes shone as he stared at me, panic and horror still swirling in them. Other than this, he was blank, lips still parted, skin still pale. I was not in his face, not close to him. I still stood away from him, just holding him down, and stared into his eyes as placidly as my temper would allow.

Questions rolled off my tongue, conspicuous questions I at least knew he could answer.

"Did you scream?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"…A dream…"

"You mean a nightmare."

"Yes."

That was about as far as I got with him, because after that, his voice grew silent, the nightmare replaying in his mind. I was silent as well, blinking at him in confusion. I decided to give up. I had at least gotten him this far.

I released my grip on his wrists and managed to get him back over to his bed (he was as reluctant to move as he had been to talk), where I sat him down, briefly straightened up the sheets, and started walking off, throwing the pillow back to the bed when I came across it in the hall. I was halfway out the door when I heard a slow mutter of, "…W-Wait…"

I paused and turned to look at him. Fai sheepishly glanced at me, still intimidated and embarrassed. He whispered, "Never mind," under his breath, but I had already seen through his intentions. So he was that kind of person.

Wordlessly, I walked back into the room, grabbed the chair that was sitting in the corner, and placed it in front of the foot of the bed. Fai stared at me in surprise when I sat down, the back of the chair to my chest, and dangled my arms lazily across the top of the frame.

No conversation passed following this action, and I gazed blankly at him, eyes at half-mast, waiting for his reply. As expected, it never came. Fai had picked up the hint, glancing at me a few times, then crawled under the covers, situating himself and arranging the pillows in a manner that would please him, one of which he set beside him.

I waited, but his eyes never closed.

"Go to sleep."

He glanced at me again, blinking at my words, still vulnerable and unsure of what to do. His mask had slipped entirely, if for a few fledged minutes.

"Go to sleep," I repeated. He finally did, after quite some time of waiting, and having dozed off myself I roused to find him snuggled against the pillow he had laid beside himself, deeply asleep. I blinked drowsily, sitting there for a few more moments before standing and returning to my room.

My first glance at the true side of Fai had been through a nightmare, and through that, I was also able to discover a way to set him at ease to sleep. It had been simple enough, yet I would realize, too simple, for a shuddering aftermath would only be the beginning of Fai's living nightmares. I would soon find myself becoming the first to aid the mage, especially when it came to nightmares, for one night I managed to get a taste of those horrific dreams, and I realized just how terrifying one's mind could become.

. : : .

_Two identical faces smiled happily at each other, the sun-laden earth spinning behind them as they twirled in dizzying circles, hands linked._

Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posie,

Ashes! Ashes!

We all fall down!

_This was chanted happily, over and over, the game repeated with giggles of childish laughter. The twins spun, hand-in-hand, the chant growing faster, until they collapsed in a heap and a fit of giggles to the grass below. It had seemed perfectly content, endless fun, without a problem in the world. Neither noticed the sudden darkening of the sky._

Ring around the rosie,

_The words left their lips as the words were repeated, but this time, only one of the twins sang it. The chant was no longer to a tune, but now blankly muttered. The second twin paused, staring at his brother in confusion._

A pocket full of posie…

_The name of the first twin slipped the lips of the second. The first came closer, the second backed away, fear starting to shine on the once happily-smiling face._

Ashes…

_The slick reflection of metal was drawn from a pocket in the first's coat._

Ashes…

_The second's eyes widened. The name of the first was now flowing from his tongue in small, mousy whispers, unsure of what to do. The first came closer. The knife raised, malicious intent suddenly ignited in the child's blue eyes._

We all…

_The second staggered backwards._

Fall…

_Voice still at a low mutter, the first slammed down the knife with complex grace, knuckles white. The scream hardly left the second's lips as blood sprayed over the field._

Down.

* * *

**So here we are, progressing into a much darker side to this story. The last paragraph, if you were confused, is basically reciting the dream Fai had that caused him to scream. I wanted to illustrate that ^ ^- I think this chapter turned out very well-it's my longest one so far, yay!-and we're starting to get into Kurogane being there for Fai. As usual, please let me know how I'm doing or if you have some comments or questions for me~ Thank you for reading! ^ ^**


	5. Vampire

Our journey continued day in and day out. There was really no way to tell the exact time we had been traveling, but in all accountancy, it had at least been several months, maybe nearing a year. And with each passing minute that led up to that eventual year, I started cracking the code more and more.

I noticed I had a way with Fai—it might have just been my sheer intimidation, or perhaps he noticed that there was really no escaping it with me—but in any case, I seemed to be the only one to get through to him.

As the months progressed, Fai started to open up a little, not only around me but around the others as well. Syaoran and Sakura were growing very close to him, to an extent he probably didn't even realize. Mokona started to enjoy its days perched on his shoulder or hopping around cooking with him, chanting some idiotic joke as his slender fingers would flip through recipes. He was gradually showing himself more, though the mask was still heavily embedded; the smiles and lighthearted cheerfulness were slowly, very slowly, becoming real.

The relationship between that tentative soul and the others was most apparent when he risked his life to save us, using magic despite his previous claims. When I saw that, something complex boiled inside of me. I didn't know what to think, yet, in a ways, he had reached me, moved me, showing what for the longest time the others had so greatly bestowed: protecting those you care about.

It had struck me in such an odd way that when we arrived in the new world, I had taken the first action that came to my nature. So I confronted him, giving him a bitter recounting of what I had started to notice, and his slow reply confirmed that he had hardly realized it. He had grown deeply involved with us, whether he liked it or not. That involvedness had crossed the line he had subconsciously placed on the others, and he had been partially oblivious to it.

What he wasn't oblivious to was crossing the line with me.

I had seen it before, how he would hesitate after another nickname, or freeze in questioning to himself when a playfully scolding pat on the arm occurred after some rudeness of mine. I intimidated him, yet I was the one to first discover his mask. I was someone he looked up to in an indescribable way, someone he held in his mind as both fear and comfort. So, very knowingly, he had crossed that line with me, so much farther than he had anticipated, and having no idea how to crawl back behind it.

After coming to this slow realization, he searched desperately for some form of an excuse, a way to get out of what he had dug himself in to. He occasionally tried to avoid us, in a way that was so carefully planned and out of the blue that the others wouldn't suspect anything. But as usual, I saw through his intentions, and questioned him about it; as I figured, his first plan quickly dropped.

Then came a spree of favoritism. Though he wasn't as knowing about his relationship with Syaoran and Sakura (and Mokona, though I don't consider the…whatever it is, a person) as he was with me, he started becoming more clingy to them, in a way that did start striking suspicion. When it would start to get dark out and he would be cleaning up the kitchen area, he would glance across the room to where Sakura would be stacking the clean dishes. He was sheepish at first, knowing that it would eventually cause interrogation. "Sakura-chan…could you…stay with me a bit longer?" That was his first attempt, and he quickly made up some reason for the request—more dishes that needed cleaning, or something he wanted help with, folding napkins or thinking of other dishes to prepare. Through this he started developing a closer relationship with her, and gradually following a similar process, with Syaoran.

He was using this as a minor excuse, making it clear that he had realized how far he had crossed the line with me. But, again, I saw through it, and ignoring his subconscious motives, I made it part of my efforts to be around him almost constantly. Whether this annoyed him or not was unknown to me, and I didn't care of that anyways. I was determined to crack through him. I wasn't close enough.

Then it was me who started crossing the line. I didn't realize how close we were becoming, and not in the "relationship" that you may think. The relationships of everyone in the journey were very complex, and growing even more complicated as it progressed. Syaoran was almost something like a brother to Fai, however vague he regarded it. Sakura was more than that. He especially grew close to her, starting out as a companion, then sisterly, then, as I would see, something more than a sister, more than a friend, but still somewhere behind that line.

But with me…

No, I was different. Far different from the others. Fai didn't know what to think of me, and I didn't know what to think of him. We both followed completely different paths of life and were polar opposites in personality, yet, in an odd way, he was able to bring out softer sides of me, and I was able to bring out darker sides of him. It was a relationship swirled with confusion and hate and uncertainty, that molded into something neither of us could really comprehend; a closeness of sorts, something that set me apart from the others, something that made me have authority, yet made me dependable; something that screwed hidden thoughts into Fai's mind.

He knew I was cracking the mask. He knew how determined I was to break it. Half of him desperately wanted me to break that code, to figure him out like only one other person had. He wanted someone to _know_, someone he could confine in and depend upon, someone who could bring him out of that deathly hole. But the other part was terrified of this, knowing what could be the multiple outcomes and doing everything in its power to stop me from getting that close to him, trying to cower from the light.

So, in a ways, his relationship to me had, from the very beginning, been one of love and hate. And knowing this, he was constantly pulling in and away, unsure of what to do, the apprehensive side of him making up so many excuses to try to avoid my help, the other side wanting it. But fear can have its control.

On that fated day, with acid rain draining my senses and two Syaorans staring blankly at me, my reckless actions took over. I didn't care of the destruction of my actions or what would result of this with the others. But none the less, from one hasty decision, one I regarded at first as a horrid mistake, Fai finally got the perfect excuse he had been waiting for.

. : : .

I hadn't listened to his hoarse protests, the despairing plea in his want to feel death. I hardly paid attention to Yuuko's explanation and the consequences that would follow. All that I cared about was that Fai was on his death bed, hardly able to talk, a bloodied bandage wrapped tightly around his head to cover the hole that used to be his left eye.

It had all happened so quickly, and in my shock I had sprung to him, something foreign inside of me pushing me onward to stop the actions of an identical Syaoran. With blood and magic and god knows what else slamming through your mind, it would only make sense that everything would be off of impulse. That's exactly what I did. After rushing to Fai and, eventually infuriated by the clone's deafness—throwing what had been the kid I had taught with my own hands across a gaping forty-five yards, where he cracked to his back against the concrete wall and he then stood, unfazed—all of my actions were out of sheer impulse. I didn't know what the hell I was doing.

To see a river of blood on Fai's face, knowing what pain he must have gone through to have an eyeball ripped from your socket—it made me think horrid thoughts, like extracted fingernails, or being dragged on the ground by your hair. Naturally, I was confused and worried out of my mind. My only thought was that I needed to protect him.

So after streams of a electric substance stabbed my back and magic haze began to numb me, I held Fai tightly against me and was frozen, not knowing what to do or how to react like this. Then when the second Syaoran arrived and a battle broke out, things were thrown into confusion beyond confusion, and my mind was torn between three different subjects. The most important, without a doubt, was the unconscious blonde in my arms.

And here we were, gathered in a cold room, my arm outstretched to a vampire I hardly knew anything of. Inhumanly sharp and extended nails cut a thin line on his wrist, then on mine, and as I held my hand upwards beneath his, the blood dripping and mixing, sliding around my wrist, I was silent.

I didn't care. This was to save him. Anything to save him…I hadn't cracked the mask yet…and I knew, even though it was so faint a spark, that Fai was inwardly pleading me to fix him. That was what pushed me to do this.

The blood streamed in a steady flow off my wrist and fell through Fai's parted lips, and after one small heavy moment, he flinched, brow furrowing, his revealed eye clenching shut. When his lid snapped up, his iris was turning a striking gold, his pupil forming to a vertical feline slit.

What happened afterwards was hazed to me. Half of me focused on directions as Fai began writhing against the bed, managing blood-curdling screams despite his weak condition. I held his shoulders, and immediately his hands dug into my shirt, his knuckles white with a death grip. His eye was wide and he was breathing heavily and unevenly, gasping with heaved pants as another wave of pain streamed over him. I didn't know it would be like this, so excruciating, and a small portion of me immediately started regretting it. Why was it so painful? Wasn't he just being able to drink blood, or was it more than that? What did that even mean?

I was snapped from my thoughts from a sudden pain, and I glanced over at my arm to find Fai's fingers digging into my skin, his grip so hard he had pressed through my shirt and drawn blood. He was trembling, head bowed, and his body was still racked with heaving breaths.

When it was finally over, his grip collapsed altogether and I found a single gold eye staring up at me in a trance. My brow crinkled. I could immediately see the words in that gaze.

_Why? Why would you do this me…? _

I turned away only briefly when I heard a dismal thud as Fai collapsed, and Mokona called out in surprise. I was still in shock and worry, and as Syaoran, the real Syaoran, wordlessly handed me the cloth that had resided over his own eye, I took it and turned back to Fai.

Immediately I felt a new sense come into me. No longer was Fai a puzzle to crack. It was as Yuuko had stated. He was a responsibility…my responsibility. And as I slid off of the bloodied bandages, one by one, and tied the black cloth in a similar fashion, that single small ping of regret tugged at me. I stared at him, and noticed, from the slight part of his lips, that his canines poked out and were sharper, inhuman.

Fai was a vampire.

* * *

**I'm finally back after a very long spring break! I apologize for not posting for another week (I didn't think I would be that busy ^ ^;;) but I'm back and on track again. I guess for some of you it might seem like I'm rushing the story a bit, but I'm just thinking of how realistic it would be about things that Kuro would start discovering about Fai, since he's still so distant right now. That's why I focused mostly on their relationships and then led into Tokyo. I really enjoyed portraying everything that's going on - I'm really proud about how this turned out~~ If there are any typos, I'll catch them later-I wanted to get this up as soon as possible for you guys ^ ^ As usual, please let me know how I'm doing or if you have any suggestions or comments. Thank you for reading!**


	6. Knight

What had started as playfully follies suddenly hit rock bottom, and the atmosphere of the next world we entered only worsened the situation.

Everyone was tentative around each other. The barriers had been replaced, even by the princess, who had seemed least likely to distance herself from the group.

The room we were currently staying in was dark with dim lighting; at nightfall, the darkness made that pale, sickly yellow have an odd hue that flamed across the ceiling and barely licked the extra rooms, making shadowy pauses cloak the halls. The carpet, when it was placed, was dull and shabby. The walls were stained with years of use and made up of a flat concrete surface, somewhere between white and gray in color. The furniture, old, rugged, lined with god knows what from previous owners, were always slick black; as were the counters, doors, tile, and the shadow-casted corners.

This was what we were faced with, surrounded by either two colors—black or white. That was how this world ran, and the accommodations were nothing more than should be expected from a Mafia.

This world, of dark skies, steely glares, and an illegal fight known as "Chess", was Infinity. Having no other way to gain money or information, we joined the "Chess" tournament and rose with exceeding speed to a high ranking. There were only two teams in "Chess", Black and White, and the defeated always switched in their players, every rotation boasting stronger opponents. Those opponents were the White Team. We were the Black.

The teams were acknowledged by their clothing. The White Team, naturally, was shroud in white—anything and everything from head to foot. And following such a pattern, we were covered in thick tresses of raven, which stroked the floor without a hint of angelic grace, and gave unruly clacks as our boots echoed over the stone floor.

We had started to shift into different roles, at that time. The "family" ideal that had posed between us was dissipating, just vaguely, and this new Syaoran was still in an unwelcome status. None of us knew what to expect, knowing what had happened with the clone. We didn't know if we could trust him yet…and that especially shone in Sakura.

She distanced herself from all of us, in an odd way, yet even more so from Syaoran. Somehow she had it in her mind this wasn't "her" Syaoran, that the "Syaoran" she knew was still out there, still the person she cared for. This other knight of hers was alien to her, and half of her was unsure of how to react. So she distanced herself, scarring him probably more than she realized. And, subconsciously, digging into the depths, finding a soul that for the longest time had been hidden in the shadow of his own thoughts, she found a new knight to carry her.

That knight was Fai.

I suppose it had really started with him. He had known what she was all along, and her sudden behaviors only strengthened that belief. There was something strikingly foreign that would arise in his eyes every time he saw her, something I noticed almost immediately. Ever since Tokyo, the closeness between those two ginger souls had grown very apparent. And I think it was then that Fai—also distancing away from me, still tentative and angered—began to cross the line he had placed by miles. I doubt he even realized it.

He was more than her knight. She was more than his princess. It grew complex and twisted, in a way they couldn't even understand. He spent his time tending to her, not exactly replacing Syaoran, yet not living up to what he had been, either. He had no hidden intentions; only that seeing these new motives, knowing the possible results, he knew there was one thing he could at least accomplish, and that was to make her happy.

So, he became her knight, mostly by his own efforts. And agreeing to the role, falling into the stoic formality and the hidden conversations; the nights of being in each other's presence if only for a few minutes, he sitting at her bedside, her resting in the sheets, just simply wanting some form of acknowledgement; the two became closer, more than what had resided, more than knight and princess, than sister and brother—simply two broken souls, reaching out, trying to find something to stabilize themselves and the masks they wore.

I was sitting on the low tattered couch some time that night when Fai gently closed the door to the princess's room, his role played. This had been repeated countless times, week after week, month after month. I held a cold bottle of beer in one hand, the taste too watered-down and flat for my preference. When I heard the soft click, my eyes flecked up.

Fai didn't look half bad in black. Before, it seemed like such a color would be dreadful on him, but now, with his mask completely torn away like this, the dark clothes were rather suiting.

He brushed down his torso very vaguely, smoothing his already-smoothed competition coat—a habit that I had seen multiple times. The long tail swayed with his strides and his boots echoed over the tile as he stepped into the kitchen. I heard the metallic plink of shifting glass as he opened up the fridge and withdrew a drink, shutting the door afterwards. It slapped shut.

The sound of boots echoed again, slower this time, and when my gaze strayed to him I found him standing near the counter. He popped the tightly pressured cap off the bottle with little effort and tipped his head back, taking a swig of the dry alcohol. The drink was soon returned to its perch.

I looked at him blankly, brows furrowing beneath the faded cloth around my forehead. I glanced from the fogged glass on the counter to the single pale eye. I could see it, the dissatisfied look, the way he seemed somewhat fidgety…he had left Sakura's room early tonight. These were all pointers to one thing. I exhaled briefly and stood, my own drink finished and tasting dull on my tongue. His gaze was blank as he turned and met mine. He quickly took interest in the scratched counter.

"…Evening," he muttered, still for a moment. He reached over to take the bottle he had opened, and I swiftly placed my fingers on the mouth of it, eyes never leaving his face. His fingers twitched, suspended in midair, then slowly curled into his palm as his hand recoiled.

"It's not going to quench it," I said, timing my words. I caught the practically unnoticeable flinch that curved from his shoulders.

"…What on earth could you mean, Kurogane?" Fai replied, gaze finally meeting mine. The pale blue of his eye reflected a startled coldness. He no longer tried to hide himself, he had figured it was just too pointless with me—but there was still one thing he refused to expose, and that was when the need for blood roused in him. He had only fed once before, unable to gain control. But now he had managed to shove down the inhuman hunger, for at least as long as he could go without me noticing. But things never got by me that easily, and he knew that.

It had continued like this from the day we arrived here, me being forced to glare down at that face just to get confirmation. Sometimes I was sick of it. Sometimes I just had to push it aside.

He was my responsibility.

I extended my hand, turned upwards, without explanation, and gazed blankly at him without letting my eyes stray. I saw the small fleck of yellow arise in his eye, something I had seen before, and something so vague that only I could see it. He didn't take his eye off my wrist, his long lashes lowering somewhat, and the seconds passed heavily. The weight of such time was unbelievably palpable to me, and I could feel my eyes narrowing.

This was how it was with us. Moments of silence, cold looks, lips in silent lines. Words never left us in situations like this, it was all action—and that was even if there was obligation. Since this was rare, I wasn't sure if Fai would give in or not. He was still unaccustomed to being in this new body, though he had adjusted to the healing powers in his blood and the strength acquired. He just hated it—hated being this thing, this monster—and he made that as clear as possible.

What I wasn't expecting was for him to finally reply.

"…I…don't want it," Fai said slowly, turning away. The yellow in his eye had aroused more as his brow quirked awkwardly. The words fled from his lips in a blurted whisper, "Even if I did, I don't know how."

I blinked slowly. Wait…didn't I just say that words never left us in situations like this…? Why the hell did he say something? It ruined my whole fricken…deep-ish…thing! For a moment I was inwardly glowering, then I looked at him with a dry stare. "What do you mean you don't know how?"

He looked up at me, his long bangs swaying slightly with the movement. His eye was returning to blue but was offset by the sudden flare of pink over his cheeks—he knew he shouldn't have said that, and now he was wondering why in God's name he did. I found myself glancing at his broad shoulders, the light curve of them, and the faint lock of platinum hair that graced the left one. His hair had grown out now and he had taken the initiative to put it into a ponytail. This didn't look bad, either.

"I don't know how to do it," Fai repeated, his voice having an annoyed hiss from behind clenched teeth. The bitterness in him was plain on his face, but overpowering it was a sense of embarrassment. I almost found this funny.

"Do what?" I retorted, my own voice somewhat irritable. I wasn't that good with conversations like this, back and forth with repeating sentences. They confused me too easily.

"What do you think?" he snapped, cheeks grazing a rose color. He pointed irritably at his lips, to gesture to his teeth. This made a light bulb click in my head; he didn't know how to extend his fangs. I looked at the pointed canines, the same length as normal teeth, just sharper. I got confused again, though—why would a vampire need to extend fangs to drink blood? Weren't they sharp enough already? Or would they not go in far enough?

…Jesus, that sounded wrong.

I glared at the ceiling for a moment, and then my gaze whipped back to Fai as I swerved my hand up to his lips, the skin of my wrist hovering before them. Fai jumped and tried stumbling back, but I had steadily planned my actions and placed him between the counter and myself. He scowled at me, blushing still and his brows furrowed.

"Well?" I grumbled, "Is the dear knightly-ness going drink or not?"

"I'm not a knight…" Fai's voice had softened. I could feel the faint movement of his lips from the close proximity of my hand. He felt this, too, and leaned his head back, still annoyed.

"Whatever. Just…get it over with."

"…I don't want it…"

I felt my jaw clench as my eyes narrowed. "It's not whether you want it or not. You're pale and all these fights have made you weaker. So, drink." My wrist was against his lips now, almost forcefully instead of pleadingly. Seeing him get so deathly white after a blow, or blank out from not enough energy always worried me to death, though I'd never admit it.

Fai sighed, huffing out a breath. The air was hot on my skin and I tried my best to ignore it, looking fixedly behind him.

"If I kill you, don't blame me." His voice was rough and bitter, yet something cracked in the middle as he muttered it, almost an apology of sorts. He didn't want to do this, and I knew it very well. But that didn't mean he didn't need it.

The lips against my wrist parted slowly. I felt something warm and wet very briefly touch my skin, pinpointing the vein, as if marking the spot he would bite. Then something thin and sharp slid to that vein, and we both waited as he tried to figure out how to work the procedure, in a way that wouldn't cause harm. I was puzzled of such a procedure myself, until the sudden puncture of two fangs silenced my thoughts. It seemed to have happened unconsciously to him, for not after three seconds of having his fangs over my pulse, his canines had immediately extended from his gums by a good inch or so, piercing my skin.

The room had grown dreadfully still.

Out of the corner of my senses, I could feel the slow, foreign feeling of blood being drawn, not near as painful as a wound but with the same effect. The fangs sunk deeper, the blood poured in. His eye was a vivid, feline gold, and his lips closed almost possessively over the cut. His lid slid shut, and for those painful moments of silence; feeling his hands curl around my arm to steady this source of his, his lips move slowly, the inner vampire taking over and trapping him in a trance; all I saw, if I did glance at him, was feathery bangs and a black patch of cloth.

What had been a mere few minutes felt like hours to me, and when Fai sharply drew himself away, fangs retracting and fingers jerking from my arm, I felt a ragged sting where his teeth had been. The odd, almost soothing feeling immediately vanished. Fai was silent for a moment, seeing me twitch slightly. Then, slowly, he held my arm again, pressing his thumb to the small cuts he had formed. I blinked at him.

"…What are you doing?" To my surprise, my voice almost sounded slurred.

"Healing you."

I stared questioningly at him for a moment, then glanced at my wrist. Where his fingers rested, a sudden sense of calmness and stability washed over me, letting me regain my senses. And after backing away, no one would have known the skin had been broken.

Fai glanced at me slowly, the gold fading to blue in his eye. He parted his lips, almost immediately ready to apologize, but clamped his mouth shut afterwards. For moments he stood there, and I noticed, as the phase wore off, how his face paled sickeningly and the look in his eye changed to disgust. He stared at the floor and then fled from my grasp, the sound of a door closing abruptly hardly entering my senses.

I didn't care if Fai hated this. I knew he did. I knew very well. All that I cared about was that he was alive, and, even though my actions left him without much choice, he was still responding in the best way he could. And for that, I was pleased.

Fai was a vampire, something he would grow to live with, put up with, and something he would accept. He was a magician, a liar, and, in the world of Infinity, a bandwagon-joiner of the angst brigade. But most importantly, Fai was a knight. He fought to stay with us. For Syaoran. For Sakura. He fought against himself, and he braved that every day. He fought because he needed it, because being a knight was just who he was...a demon server of his own twisted ways.

People would never look at him that way. They would either see him as too kind or too fake, too complicated, too desperate. But I saw through all of that, and I knew how to cure it.

Because Fai was a knight, to me.

* * *

**Here we are, chapter six, finally ; I spent quite some time planning this, wanting to make sure this worked out as well as I could put it. I think it turned out pretty well ^ ^- How I love vampires, they sho yummeh eDe~~ *coff* But, anyways, I think I will switch my update-date (though it's rare I will post solidly ^ ^;) to Fridays. They just seem to work better for me. Please remember to let me know how I'm doing, if you're enjoying it or not, or if you have some suggestions for me ^ ^ Thank you again for reading~!**


	7. Dress

The days that followed us lead trails of blood in multiple directions. Everywhere we went, death was involved. The death of the teams we defeated, the death of our own cloned company, the death of an insane king…

Almost the death of me.

The day that the cloned Sakura had been killed, her soul departing yet again to a world trapped in dreams; the day I stopped Fai from nearly committing suicide; it was that same day that we traveled through dimensions into a sickly blizzard-laden wasteland, what had been home to what was now hundreds and hundreds of frozen corpses. It was the day our senses were plowed through with stench, when our own bodies refused to follow our desires and fought each other unwillingly. It was the day that a king of raven locks showed us a living child of skin and bones, the day Fai's past flashed before our eyes… The day the king fell to darkness with a jagged hole in his chest…

The day I stood before that damn, innocent, helpless mage, with the world crumbling around us…tattered and bruised…blood streaming from his mouth and hoarse whispers of his limited magic slipping him as his eyes widened. I refused to take that answer. I refused to leave him. Not after coming this far.

It was the day Sōhi plowed through my arm, and I ignored the blood streaming out of my system; with what strength was still in me, I managed hauling Fai off the ground. Everything after that day faded to black.

Time just moved too quickly after death. It really did. It was almost painful to think about it, also…to know that you yourself could have joined death's clutches.

When I awoke to a painfully familiar world, the floors laden of tatami mats and the soft smell of incense and looming black pines entering my senses, my first thought was that I had died. This was home. Nihon Country. Japan.

I had least expected to arrive here, of all places, after such a whirlwind of blood and risk. But, I guess it made sense…people always said that you arrived to your homeland when you died. Except that I quickly realized I hadn't died, not in the least.

My left shoulder was tightly bandaged and screaming with pain, and currently I had one arm. It didn't bother me, it was a decision I had made myself. Yet, I was still a little surprised.

A long conversation with Tomoyo, who was sitting next to me, informed me of what had been going on, and also that it had been her who had spoken with me telepathically when I had made the sudden action to save Fai. And after that long conversation, no other than Fai himself walked in. He was dressed in a very pale, almost white, blue kimono that graced the floor…he walked up to me slowly… I froze.

What. The. Fu—

A punch streamed over my forehead, and my thoughts were knocked away. But they still buzzed deeply into by brain, even as he threw a nickname at me and grinned, and I seethed a comment back. Why the hell was he wearing a woman's kimono?

I was feeling stupid throughout the rest of the night as Fai sat silently across from me, few words leaving us but the awkwardness over my face probably very conspicuous. I felt bad at first. I knew Fai didn't know much of Japanese culture and probably didn't realize what he was wearing, but obviously Tomoyo did…if she gave him the…well…oh god…the dress…no…robe…the robe…then she obviously knew what it was. But Fai didn't really know, and come the next morning, Syaoran had no idea, either. He was wearing a light warrior's garb, and probably thought everyone was wearing dresses.

So, I guess, for the first part of the next day, half the workers and me and Fai were considered trannys, and Syaoran was the only person, other than the countless ninja, who wasn't in a kimono.

* * *

**Chapter seven, probably the shortest drabble I'll do. This is a considerably shorter chapter than the rest of them (it didn't even break 1k words *sobs*), something I'm sure most of you might be annoyed over, but it is also more of a drabble length and covered the main idea I was after. I'm presuming some of you looked at the chapter title and FTW'd immediately, but I swear, I was laughing my butt off when pretty Fai stepped out in a women's kimono during Shunraiki. So, this is what I wanted to cover. **

**These past chapters have been covering things mostly that goes on in the Tsubasa series, but as you can see, we're nearing the end of that. The rest of the chapters will instead be focusing on things that will be actual characteristics about Fai, such as appearance and physique (which will come later but I'm dying to do e e) and some little drabbly things like that. I will be using some other things from CLAMP like Horitsuba Gakuen/ect. so most of these drabbles aren't completely made up. I thank anyone who cares to read this massive bold print at the bottom, and I love to hear reviews and suggestions~ Thank you for reading ^ ^**


	8. Sleep

We were exhausted. Our bones were aching, limbs dreadfully sore. Blood oozed from countless places over our body, staining the royal blue of Fai's coat and casting darker puddles on mine.

I slowly glanced up at him, and as I met his feeble, breathless gaze, I knew the same things rushing through my head were drumming through his.

It had seemed only minutes before that we had submitted ourselves into Fei Wong's clutches, climbing blindly through murky ruins and fighting out whatever impulses we had until meeting him. God, I hated that man. Every part of him, from his cowardly hour-long speeches to that obnoxious ass-chin. As should be expected, he gave us a prepared speech of recognition. Soldiers began forming around us, and once taking the initiative, Fai and I polished them off while Syaoran once again faced his clone. That's when things crumbled out of hand.

Nothing seemed off until Syaoran's fighting techniques oddly grew weaker and weaker as the clone dealt him furious blows. We saw this and tried to fight past the soldiers to get to him, but Fei Wong prevented us. Since we were distracted, we starting getting a few blows ourselves. We kept trying to reach the two, despite this. Then, without warning, the clone pinned Syaoran to the ground, and his katana thrust downward. We didn't even hear a scream; a shadowed wave of blood erupted from Syaoran's upper body, scattering across the ground like raindrops, and that was all it took to throw us into a rage. Fei Wong then dropped what felt like a bomb of surging magic at our location, and the next thing I knew, I was slammed to the ground against rock structures. By then, my ribs felt bruised and I was winded. I hardly managed picking up my head to see the clone drag a lifeless Syaoran up the steps towards the sorcerer.

We struggled, almost pathetically, against our shocked bodies to reach them. Time was moving far too slowly now, and my lungs were still screaming from the blasts of magic. I started hoisting myself up against a jagged corner just when something caught my eye, and I could feel Fai's confused gaze locked on the same area. What had been a limp, dead-like Syaoran had now thrust up from under the folds of his cloak, stabbing his own katana through Fei Wong's chest. I felt quivers of fury rush over me when a hallucination of Kyle appeared in the spot where Fei Wong had been, blood pouring from him.

Our energy regained almost immediately through shock and uncontrollable anger. Another damn clone, just a distraction. We ripped past inner screams for rest as we clambered to our feet, fighting breathlessly through the crowding soldiers yet again. At this time, something was spreading between the true Fei Wong, Syaoran, and the clone, as the sorcerer had appeared through a ripped portal between the dimensions. He was appalled that the clone had turned against him, and was showing this without a hint of control.

We continued battling, though our wounds were taking a toll on us. I could feel myself slowing. Fai's raspy breaths echoed in my ears as he ripped his claws across the throat of the soldier between us.

We were close now. I wasn't letting myself give in to the aching plea of my muscles, and I pushed forward. Fai, scratched and bleeding, fell behind, but kept up the stumbling pace as best as he could. When we finally reached the top, Fei Wong had stabbed his blade through the clone. His eyes were fading to lifelessness. Syaoran had gasped a horrified word of protest. We both stood in bewilderment, lungs burning with uneven breaths, as the clone collapsed into Syaoran's arms, whispering slow words of apology. His body dispersed into wafting fragments before we even had time to digest those words, and Syaoran clutched the air, too shocked to make a reply.

Fai's gaze was weak, yet ginger, eye shimmering slightly. "Syaoran-kun…" he whispered, addressing the clone. Those last few words had been directed at the mage, forms of apology for his attack. As the clone had vanished, a floating, cerulean crystal that glowed with a faint hue had taken his place. This crystal slowly hovered before Fai, and he watched it for a moment, knowing very well what it was. His gaze grew saddened, and his hands meticulously cupped the glowing fragment as he murmured quiet responses to the clone's words, knowing how seeing the kindness of the true Syaoran and Sakura and the affections between the group—the bond that held us together—had changed him.

Fai hesitated only briefly before he took a slow exhale and clasped his hands around the crystal, the glowing light compressed for a moment as he drew them to his forehead. Then the glow exceeded what it had been, streaming around him as a sense of weightless air tousled his coat and his pale locks. When Fai drew his hands away, he continued his quiet words, his fingers curling across the dark cloth over his face. The cloth fell away without struggle to reveal his left eye, slowly opening, weak yet determined in an icy blue. His last words finished with this action as he looked forward with two adamant eyes.

We felt the same sense of purpose hit us as he finished his quiet response, and the words somehow motivated us, keeping our rage flaring with something that almost made it resentful. We weren't wasting this opportunity. So the fight erupted into something thousands of times greater than it had been.

Magic of the strongest auras I've ever felt raced from Fai's fingertips to form a glowing script of runes, and the battle was on, Syaoran charging forward with his katana poised as I closely followed. Everything seemed so hazed after that. We were all pushing our limits against exhausted bodies, fighting all for different reasons that managed to connect. Syaoran had to save Sakura, who was hovering in the distance surrounded by a pool of tar-like blackness. I was gaining revenge for the destruction that had been caused to my parents and my homeland, and it was set in my head that I should finish him. Fai was fighting back against his controller to take a stand, his silent voice echoing for himself and for his brother.

Everything streamed to haste, then. Every second counted.

As Fei Wong released his hold on Sakura, time speeding up again from its frozen state, we urged Syaoran to get to her as we fought off the sorcerer. Syaoran shoved against his impulse and raced against the clock, Fai's magic streaming around us, my katana poised at my side. When the kid did grab the princess's hand, everything froze again. I was getting so ticked off of the effect on time this place had.

Suddenly, the world crumbled under our feet, and without warning we were thrown into suspended capsules that viewed the world from ridiculous lengths. The worlds, the dimensions—every location we had seen through the countless journeying—was in split fragments before us. My mind was swimming with confusion. Fai was collapsed in a heap beside me, and I snatched his arm before the capsules dragged us in, making sure he was with me. I held him at my side as I observed the splitting worlds, not knowing what the hell to expect. He was limp in my arm, breathing heavily as he glanced up at this. Fei Wong had continued to deal us similar blows from before as we had fought.

What happened after that almost seemed to be frozen in a trance.

Time was dragging, but still moving. I was breathless, Fai was exhausted against me. I eventually released my grip on him, but my fingers were still curled around his sleeve. God knew what might happen, and if this capsule randomly jerked open, I wasn't ready to fall to my death into a void of crumbling worlds. It went on like this a few moments longer. We saw various worlds, sometimes dropped from the capsules into them. Fai was desperately trying to restore the dimensions to the way they had been, but Fei Wong was controlling their destruction. Then there was a shuddering jolt, and the worlds were crumbling and groaning back into place, as if caught off by an electric reaction. I was jerked back with Fai stumbling as the worlds gave an unruly snap and molded back together, and without warning we were back in Clow, with Fei Wong starting the battle up again.

He was thrown off guard by this sudden reformation—it obviously wasn't part of the plan. As I drew up my strength to fight him again, Fai building up his magic as he came to his feet, Fei Wong started to get distracted about something. He was muttering shocked replies about the Dimensional Witch, horrified that something had happened to her. He couldn't find her. He was searching through the worlds as if lost in direction, unable to stop his incoherent rambles, and fed up with it, I yelled at him to shut his goddamn trap as I clambered forward, Fai shielding me with his magic, and sliced Ginryū right through the middle of that insane sorcerer.

His ramblings slowed in petrified shock until Fei Wong Reed, and his dream, ended. With his death, the real Syaoran and Sakura returned from their sudden disappearance, and the princess was crying. They were both talking about their clones, their "other me," who were gone; had simply vanished. And then feathers were extracted from unknown sources, and the two collapsed into exhausted slumber as the supernatural content was consumed.

Which leaves us where we were, Syaoran limp in my grasp, Sakura limp in Fai's, both of us glancing up with a weak, fatigued gaze.

We were motionless. What had just happened over a span of a good three or four hours was leaving us in shock and in silence. What could you say? What could you do…? After witnessing so much, the only thing on our minds was to get out of this godforsaken ruin and into some form of a bed. My muscles were sore and aching and my left shoulder was screaming with pain. Fai was heavily dosed with blood, breathing unevenly, and I could tell he seemed rather sore on his right ankle. But we were alive. The kids were alive.

…Things would be okay.

I pulled myself to my feet and managed to go over to him, helping him up. He leaned on me, hobbling slightly, as we teetered our way out of the ruins and crossed the small waves of desert, the heat only engrossing us through our thick clothes. Collective gasps and shocked questions spilled to us from oblivious townspeople, but we ignored it, climbing our way to the castle. We were immediately tended to, the prince, his advisor, and a few servants taking Syaoran and the princess as we were lead off.

Layers of bandages covered our bodies before new sets of clothes adorned us, much lighter and suited for such terrain. By the time we were shown our rooms, Fai didn't bother letting go of me for support on his ankle, and we dragged ourselves into one room. The blonde slid onto the bed without so much as a sigh as his eyes slid shut, relieved at the feel of light comforters and a soft mattress. I fell right beside him, both of us on our stomachs, and exhaustedly closed my eyes.

Thank god, gods, any fricken' thing that lives up there in the sky.

We fell asleep without having to think twice, and how long we slept, I'm not sure.

Fei Wong Reed was dead, finally. The kid and princess were alive. I was alive. Fai was alive. And I was getting some sleep alongside that mage, that idiotic, hard-headed mage, who I was so speechlessly thankful was alive. Sleep…glorious sleep…

…Fai was asleep.

* * *

**And the Tsubasa storyline arc of this fanfic has concluded~! This is where it'll get fun e e~ Well, here we are, Chapter 8, focusing on the Clow Arc. I was waiting for the right inspiration to start writing, and I had a random idea this morning to get going, and didn't get off the keyboard once I did. I'm very proud of this chapter, I think I executed it much better than I thought I would~ I might have some typos that I'll fix as soon as I can, but I'm pretty sure I caught all of them. I wanted to get this up as soon as possible ^ ^ I love to hear reviews, so feel free to let me know how I'm doing or if you have any comments/suggestions. Thank you to all my readers who have favorited/suscribed this story, and keep it up!**


	9. Touch

It was eleven on a Thursday night (at least, I think it was a Thursday), and Fai still hadn't let up on the light tug on my wrist.

Two days ago, the three of us—Syaoran, the mage, and I—randomly dropped into an alleyway off of a sidewalk in Tokyo. There we met a girl with a striking resemblance to the hime, named Kobato, who had ushered us to stay in her apartment while she worked. Despite her looks, though, her personality was nowhere near that of Sakura's…the chick was a total spaz.

Valentine's Day was occurring in this world, and I was disgusted the moment I was informed of it. I shuddered again as I remembered the sickly holiday some people actually considered important. Pink ribbon and loads of too-sweet chocolate just waiting to kill you, and, of course, idiotic couples running all over the place. I refused to play any part in it, even though the date hadn't come yet. And here we were on our second day staying here, with me sitting against the windowed wall of Kobato's apartment, trying desperately to control my anger, as Fai pulled on my wrist and babbled about some game to play.

Some time earlier, the damn mage had dragged me all over the place to occupy us, since the kid was helping Kobato in the café she worked in. Our clothes were foreign, still patterned with Clow design and suited for weather much warmer than this, so we had been mistaken for cosplayers and swarmed with crowds. I was ready to punch something. No, I _needed_ to punch something. After five minutes of shenanigans, I was gritting my teeth in waiting to throw someone into a street light—I didn't need the mage being so ridiculous.

"What the hell are you talking about…?" I finally sighed. The other two hadn't returned yet and I was bored as hell. Fai's cool fingers released their grip, but remained poised over my arm. He had soft hands…

"This game, Kuro-buro–" He was patting my arm to get my attention, however distracted himself, as he stared curiously at a brightly-colored box beside him. I huffed a dry exhale and looked at the ceiling. "–what's it called? It has all these little indentions and glass marbles…I think you have to go sideways or something…" He released his grip, holding the small game up for examination.

"Chinese checkers," I replied in a bored voice, closing my eyes. "It's a popular game, haven't you seen it before…?"

He shrugged and made some soft remark, but I didn't really hear it. He had turned back to me, whispering something, about the kid and the princess, and the new journey we had set out on to find the clones. I heard the words vaguely through a hole in my senses, though my mind was elsewhere. I was trying to focus on something, just to get my thoughts off of things, tone down my temper. I had actually become pretty good at that.

And it was then, feeling the ghosting touch of fingertips on my shoulder, that my thoughts swerved right back to the person I was trying to ignore.

A light smile in conversations, with fingers splayed in subconscious delicacy over your arm. Wafts of concern floating in his pale eyes; a hand resting so faintly on your knee. He would comment on something with playful recognition, while slender, milky fingers tousled your hair—which would be, for whatever reason, the chosen topic.

It was unconscious, impulsive. Fai was a toucher.

Not only was he a toucher, but a hugger, a glomper, and an extreme cuddle monster. It was, in fact, the way I had figured out how to cure Fai's uncontrollable nightmares. I had known it from the start, or at least had a good idea, of why Fai was so petrified to sleep at night. Shadows haunted him in an odd way; creeping figures of black, sliding with shifting moonlight. Nothing appeared normal at night, especially to a person who had seen such horrors as he had.

So I wasn't surprised when, one time, during the dead of night, I heard the heavy silence of the mage standing outside my door, restless with insomnia and debating on whether or not he should confront me about it. It was the first time he had come to me; though, on occasion, if we had stayed up late in each other's presence—drinking or talking of the day—he would drop small hints for me to stay longer.

_Don't leave me. I'm scared. I don't want to be alone._

His gaze would say it all, yet I pushed it aside. I would stay before his bed for a little, simply waiting for him to fall asleep. I knew it wouldn't help much, if do anything—it only allowed a few minutes of reassurance. But watchful eyes just weren't enough.

It was in the middle of the night when panic struck him, when memories streamed back and woke him with vicious quotes and deathly visions. After the third time of hearing him bolt awake with loud gasps, I was fed up. I had been ready to storm across the hall just as the door opened, and there stood Fai, head hung, with his fingers still resting tentatively over the doorknob.

He glanced up at me and I could see the uneasiness in his gaze.

"K-Kuro-pon…" he fumbled slightly, trying to play it off as a casualty. "Ah…" He plucked at the bottom of his silk shirt, eyes flecking from me to the floor. "I…ah…n-nice night…?"

My brow crinkled as I stared at him quizzically.

"It's one thirty…" I grumbled, flopping slightly to my side. I heaved out a sigh, "…What do you want…?"

Fai blinked at me slowly, cheeks scaling to a shade of pink. I looked at him, and saw it—saw why he always lay on his stomach in sleep, saw why he was so cold when he was alone, why he seemed so helpless. His past haunted him. He wanted a barrier, something just to keep him warm, to create a bubble…to feel safe. And since we were no longer strangers in rivalry…since I had started to break the ice with him; formed the looming bridge between us…since I was starting to care…I didn't deny the request.

"C'mere." The whisper left my lips before I even processed the words; I patted the mattress beside me, absently feeling my fingers sink into the padded cotton and the sheets wrinkle. Fai looked at me with innocent shock, and I knew it hadn't been the answer he had been expecting, if he had even anticipated an answer.

He was still for a moment before taking the slow steps towards me. I did not notice the padding of his bare feet, only sensing the hesitant motions as he stood at the bedside, hearing the gentle breathing through parted lips, feeling the mattress eventually sink to my right.

After knowing he had followed my reply, I fell asleep without hesitation, only to wake in the morning with a head of blonde hair nuzzled to my neck and limbs wrapped around me. He didn't mean it. He didn't. He was a cuddle monster, as I've said—and, as ridiculous as it sounds, having me there, sleeping beside him—having _something_ there—it calmed him. And it made perfect sense to me, because I knew exactly why it was that way with him.

When I saw Fai's past, so many answers had fixed into my mind. And one of those answers was just that; why he didn't want to sleep alone.

For the majority of his childhood, which was beyond decades due to his magic, Fai had lived alone; with no food, no water, nothing but the small voice of his twin stories above; in a base of snow, stone, and rotting corpses. Just the stench alone, to get through that…bodies were added every day to the mountains of rotting flesh. And Fai was stuck with it, in the ice and snow, having nothing but a rugged tunic that took no time at all to diminish into scattered patches of rags. He had nothing, no one, to comfort him, to put him at ease. No warmth. No pulse. Nothing but a distant voice to show him that there was something else living aside from him.

When Fai slept alone, he was surrounded by cold sheets, no matter how long he laid in them. Those sheets would remind him of the icy snow that for so long had been the only form of a bed he could provide. The shadows in the room would leave him to remember towering stacks of corpses; open doors to darkened areas left tunnels of blood in his vision; scattered items on floors brought back the image of torn limbs. He couldn't help these thoughts—they were involuntary. At daytime, there wasn't a problem. Daytime was surrounded by warmth, laughter, sunlight. But at night…everything faded to black. And it terrified him.

Which was why I took the time to piece things together, to figure it out, and was why I replaced those thoughts instead. It had grown to a point where I didn't care where he was sleeping, so long as he managed to get through some form of rest. And this was why I allowed him to crawl into my bed that night, drape himself over me, and become embraced with warmth.

It wasn't the closeness. It wasn't the vague intimacy. It was everything else; the reassurances to know something _alive_ was there with him. The slow rise and fall of breathing. The constant drum of a heartbeat under his fingers. Warm skin, a familiar smell. All of this drew away his fears, his nightmares, and comforted him with something he knew was real before him. And for every night he stayed with me or I with him (and don't get perverted thoughts, idiot, I know how you damn fangirls work), every time he knew he wasn't alone and had the reassurance that he would be fine, he never had another nightmare. And he still hasn't since.

And, turning back again, this is also how I figured out how much of a goddamn cuddle monster the mage is. Every morning I find myself practically strangled by the moron, but I guess I've started to get used to it.

Now, to Fai being a hugger…god, don't get me started. Say something he finds cute? Hug. See something he finds cute? Hug. A cute girl giving him a rose? (which, has actually happened quite a few times) Well, that's a glomp. But still, you get the picture.

And Fai's hands…Jesus, Fai's hands. He has the softest hands in the world—I swear, he either lathers them with lotion twenty times a day or maybe he was just born with it. His fingers are long and slender, and whenever he plays the piano, it's as if he's stroking glass to an effortless tune. I'll talk to you about that later, because that's a pretty awesome talent he has, as well.

He's also a toucher in other ways, not just acting on impulse. He'll stroke the countertops while walking through the kitchen, or barely touch the banister when gliding down the stairs (and jumping off with an obnoxious cheer with three stairs left. One time he jumped at six from the bottom, and I'm still surprised he didn't break his ankles).

So, really, I guess it's not exactly something he means to do…but he does have soft hands…soft skin… He always has. Genetics, I guess. His skin, his hair—it's always been that way—

"Kurgy, are you even listening to me?"

Dammit, mage, I was trying to think…

"Huh?" I looked back over at him, pulled from my thoughts. His head was on my shoulder and he had been looking at me incredulously while making ridiculous faces to get my attention. I must have been staring off. Currently, his eyes were wide, brows furrowed deeply and forming a slight crease between them, with his mouth hanging open and tongue splayed to the side. His hands were perched with a weird, almost evil-scientist pose over my arm. I jumped and blurted a furious reply while he broke into fits of laughter. Light, airy laughter…sometimes the fluttering laughter of an angel. Nine times out of ten, it was laughter from a demon.

"Lost in thought, hm?" he chuckled, grinning playfully at me. "Well, come on, I've been waiting for over ten minutes for you to show me how to do this!"

I scowled and rolled my eyes, but turned on the floor, plunked down across from him, and taught Fai how to play Chinese checkers.

* * *

**Memorial Weekend is over and I'm back, whoo! My computer was being a butt this weekend so I had a little trouble getting this chapter up, but here it is, chappy number nine. I'm so glad with how smoothly this story's going - I'm very pleased with it ^ ^- I've always figured that, eventually, Kuro would stay with Fai for the reason I gave. It just seemed to make sense to me, especially after seeing his past. Jesus, that was so sad. Anyways, please continue to review and send me comments/suggestions if you have any. Thank you to my wonderful readers~**


	10. Kind

I once heard that wounds had an ability of toning down a person. Like having something taken from you–it humbled you in a way, because it taught you how to deal with a different perspective of things. When I made the decision to save Fai in Celes, and paid the price of my arm, which he had magically induced, I found that something odd came from it. From the moment I had awoken to the months that had followed, I realized something was gradually changing about me. Maybe it had always been this way. Maybe, little by little, I had started to care more, being able to control my temper easier than anyone who had known me before could imagine, and able to look at certain situations from a different angle. Maybe I was just turning soft.

When I cut off my arm, it was just as I had heard so many years ago…it was almost as if it cast a sense of understanding over me. Being forced to live without something as drastic as a limb, to have to depend slightly on others…it made me realize just how caring other people were.

Scratches and bruises, cuts, deep gashes—all those things are typical wounds a warrior faces. To have someone try to treat that, over and over; it just grew to be a nuisance, and you didn't think of their help as greatly as you did during the commence. But when something drastic happened, when you were forced to realize just how helpless you had really been reduced to… Losing an arm might not seem like a big deal to some, but to chop off a limb without second thought was a big step, and typically, such actions were life-changing.

It was early in the morning, around the second day we were staying in Nihon, that I realized just how kind Fai was.

I had always known he was caring. He put the wellbeing of others far, far before himself, and was the first to be concerned and the last to push things aside. But kindness is a very vague statement, in a ways. There are so many branches to kindness, all of which can lead to different things. And Fai's kindness was one that was almost incomparable.

While we were staying in Nihon, it was Fai who greeted me in the morning. He would peek cautiously into the room, making sure I was either asleep or awake to determine how he should approach me. If I was asleep, he would always be careful not to wake me, padding as quietly as he could along the tatami mats. I would still pick up the sound of his steps, even though he was so ginger with them, and would mutter a tired reply as I groggily cracked open an eyelid and peered at him. It was humorous to see how the disappointment broke over his face when he would realize he had been caught. But then he would sigh softly and look at me for a moment, concern and guilt clouding his eye. He would settle on the floor next to me and whisper a greeting, asking how I had slept, if I was doing alright. I almost found myself giving the same, robotic answers, until I realized how it wasn't just a morning routine. He was worried sick about me, and I knew it. I just didn't know how to react to it.

Without a limb, I was thrown off balance, spun into dizzying momentum caused by blood loss, and unsure of how to do anything. I could hardly stand up without swaying. When I first woke up, there would be moments when, very briefly, my vision would seep to black from low blood sugar. Sometimes I found it took longer than usual to wake up, and that was a statement for me—I had always been a heavy sleeper, at least when I could allow it.

But there he would be, hands immediately outstretching to steady me if I hovered off balance. Tender, meticulous hands, gingerly grasping the silk of my kimono and helping me catch myself. He was the one there when I woke, and the one there when I drifted into sleep. It was his eyes that eased my temper, and his guilt that sprung it up again.

I knew he blamed himself for it. Hell, he blamed himself for everything. It was an old habit that lingered, and I didn't get angry at him for it; I knew how much his past had scarred him. He grew up thinking that he was the cause for anything harmful that happened to someone close to him. That, perhaps, he had done some action, or simply made some small, wrong decision, that may have sparked it off.

In Tokyo, when the hime had left to gather the compensation for the witch, Fai had been racked with guilt upon realizing what she had done; he had been so guilty, in fact, so worried, that despite the agonizing pain still ripping through his bloodstream and the major adjustments hammering his senses, he fought against our will to try to go after her. When she returned, it was Fai who ran to her first, using his own cloak to shield her and letting himself sting in the acid rain. He had hardly let her out of his sight after that, wanting with everything left in his goodwill that he could somehow heal her and help her, because he had blamed himself for it.

Had Fai been conscious before Sakura's decision, he would have protested immediately against the idea. He cared so much about everyone, and that princess especially. He had foreseen what her future held…he knew what she was. He wanted her safe and happy before any of that happened. And knowing how caring Sakura was, I don't think she would have been able to resist those pleading eyes, had Fai been awake.

But he hadn't. And so the hime had left, without a moment of hesitation. She knew what she had to do, and more importantly, had managed to catch a glimpse of what was coming. I could see it in her, and I knew, just as well as Fai did, that the protection over her was fading.

So in that one instant, with a delicate kiss placed on the princess's knuckles, and the quiet whisper of "_Vi la princia_," I knew Fai was determined to keep a seal; no matter how vague, tentative, or even as ritual as it seemed; over her—a promise to keep her safe. And that he did, for as long as he could, all throughout Infinity….until, at the climax, the seal was broken by his own uncontrollable actions.

…Just another scar across his heart.

This was one reason why Fai was so caring. He knew what had happened in his past and especially what had happened over the journey, and despite his own attempts, he just couldn't let these things go. So he held them close to him, as reminders, and did everything in his power to prevent anything like that from happening again. He was so ginger with people, half because he was afraid of causing any harm to them, and half because he truly did care. And for that reason, I found myself giving in to those little actions of his; the served breakfasts every morning, the delicate hands always ready to steady me, and the quiet determination to make me better. He knew very well that had he not been in such dire condition, or, maybe, have not even been there, the possibility of me cutting off my arm would have never occurred.

The guilt swelled so badly that, eventually, Fai just couldn't handle it anymore. That was the day I found a mechanical arm floating in a chemical encasement—the exact size, muscle consistency—everything that had been my left arm converted into a prosthetic limb. And I knew, the moment I saw it, who had made the wish for it, and immediately, seeing what was the last thing Fai could possibly offer up as a price, I knew what would be given up.

When Fai paid his magic for the acquirement of that arm, another sense of responsibility washed over me. It was the final step to tug me forward, and I did so without a second thought. Fai had given up so much for everyone on that damned journey, and for him to do that for me was just beyond what I would have imagined. So I turned the tables and started being there for him, even more than I was already—just as much as he was being there for me.

The moment I took that last, slow step, I didn't feel one sense of question to it. Not one. Nothing like the days in Ōto, Tokyo, and nowhere near Infinity. And as soon as I took that step, from the moments we left the gates in Nihon, to the lung-tearing battle in Clow, through the lingering journey to find the clones, to now, I've never stopped that promise.

I've stayed by his side ever since.

* * *

**Well I'm finally back from my no-chapter-in-two-freaking-weeks charade. I have finals coming up and some other activities that have drawn me away from this, but I managed to get this up and ready this morning. I was working on this chapter since this past Monday, piecing it little by little together. Once I hit that last line, I wasn't sure if I should continue or not - I felt like I should give you guys more, since it's rather short, and since I missed a week in posting. But, I don't know...after I read through this a few times, I felt ready proud of how it sounded. Espeically around the way I wrapped up those last few paragraphs. It just felt good, so I left it there. Now, never to fear, the series isn't over yet~ I'm planning on getting into some new things, maybe drag out of the deepness in this and get into some humor. I know I mentioned Fai being able to play piano in the last chap. (and this was mentioned in Horitsuba, so it's legit~~) and I know a few readers have brought up me doing something on that, so I might make that the next chapter.**

**Anyways, thank you for reading (and if you read that block of bold especially!) and I'd like to thank the readers who've stayed with me since chapter 1 and all who have joined! Please continue to review and send me suggestions if you have some~**


	11. Pianist

Music. It's a complex concept, really. Sound that makes a tune; a beat, a note, a flow of patterns.

Some people look at music as pleasant distractions—something to listen to and imagine a world branched out from it. Others observe it simpler, as just another pleasure to life. Then there are those who feel music, live it. When they play an instrument, they reminisce on a moment to pull memories away. They lose themselves in it, living and breathing it. It adds a depth to a song, something more than just saying words or playing measures.

There's a term used for this quality. Musicians describe it as putting life into a song, or singing through an instrument. Countless phrases and terms most people can't even explain.

That unexplainable feeling struck me the moment I first heard Fai play piano.

In Ōto Country, the mage feigned innocence, claiming he couldn't play. He had a theory behind this, as he always did—his past was unknown from everyone until the revelation in Celes; to expose his ability to read and play music at the level he did, supposedly without instruction, would raise question from the others.

So, he laid low. But all throughout Ōto, I noticed the quiet, longing gaze in his eyes every time they wandered towards the polished oak piano. Once I saw that gaze, I knew he was hiding the fact that he could play. I just didn't know his ability in it.

He kept this talent disclosed until we had all left the café. We would be out, training or shopping; sometimes I was dragged along for something if the kid and the princess wanted to walk around for a bit. Usually Fai would stay behind to man the café—we always left either on days where they was little demand or during closed hours.

But when we returned, I could feel it. An odd sensation in the air, something light yet palpable, as if only moments before the room had been filled with music. It was the feeling you had after hearing a song you knew well, and when the song suddenly stopped without having finished, the tune and the lyrics would still be in your mind; you could still feel the music, as if it remained playing. That was the feeling I experienced after we entered the café.

On that morning, when we had walked in, there sat Fai, inconspicuously poised with a pen tapping his lower lip and notes of recipes strewn over the counter. He, at first, appeared oblivious to our entrance, as he muttered quietly to himself about the compatibility of a certain cookie batter mixed with cinnamon. Then he blinked softly, not paying heed to the ghosting vibration of piano strings that hung in the air. He turned to us with a curious look, until his trademark grin, warm, yet effortlessly cloaked without expression, appeared over his face.

Syaoran didn't seem to notice the pregnant silence that hung, despite the pleased welcome; neither did Mokona. Only I took in the oddly relaxed position of the mage as a hint that he had been doing something else before we entered. I think the princess caught it, too.

It had happened a few days before, as well—another miniscule hint, a clue, that there was something else, something minor, that Fai was hiding about himself. This particular clue occurred with the princess.

Fai had unveiled to her a curved wooden instrument, lined with polished mahogany and oak, with a snaked lid over a forest of horizontal strings and ivory keys of black and white layered on the base. This instrument he introduced as a piano, something Sakura had never seen before.

I'm sure she was probably dumbfounded to see it, and later amazed, or else she wouldn't have asked Fai how it worked—and most importantly—if he could play it. And it was there, then, the little flicker in his eyes; the sparkle of blue accompanied by an enigmatic smile that told something she couldn't place; the sympathetic, chuckled tone as he softly remarked, "Not a single note," while plunking two keys at random.

Fai was odd like that, especially during that time of our journey. No matter what the topic was, he'd find some excuse to fit a smile in; a bittersweet smile, a content smile. A blank one. Yet, in those quiet smiles, and the calm, ever-genuine look in his eyes, he held a sense of curiosity, as if it were some sort of game to him. He waited for someone to figure out yet another thing about him, usually me, catching him as he slipped in his act.

Syaoran never did see through him. He knew how mysterious Fai was, how he seemed tentative at times. However, the kid was rather dense, and that was about as far as he got. Mokona noticed glimpses; how lonely his smile sometimes seemed, or how it would fall altogether to show a downhearted face. Only Sakura and I got to him, close enough to want to dig deeper, answer the hundreds of questions inside of us. In the end, in was me who broke the code, and the princess who helped him feel confident with it.

As I've said before, the princess was someone very dear to Fai. He held her close in the aspect that she was someone he knew he could trust and confine in. Sakura was the second person Fai opened up to.

It was during one of the times we were returning to Clow that Fai revealed his ability to play piano.

I stood near the foyer with Syaoran flanking me. We were talking without really staying on one topic; I was tired from another week of travel, highlighted by the white ass of fur I was dying to turn into a hat.

Syaoran had already welcomed the princess, and I had given her a little tip of the head in recognition. We had only been gone a few months before Mokona landed us in Clow again, so I didn't feel I it was imperative to make a big greeting. Besides, we hardly talked much, anyway.

Then came in a flustered Fai, apologizing hastily for his random disappearance. I'm not sure where he had been. The idiot probably got lost. As odd as it seems, if he allowed himself, Fai could get turned around very easily.

Fai's eyes lit up when he saw Sakura, and he gave a soft announcement of her name before rushing over to give her a hug (like I said, he's quite the hugger). They talked happily for a moment, small, quiet chatter, until silence fell over them. Sakura cast him ginger glance.

"Fai-san…?" she said, and my gaze climbed to reach them upon hearing her tone. "Toya, my brother, he plans things a lot. He plans too much, really," she added, chuckling softly. She looked back at him, "Anyways, he was talking about having other means of entertainment, and a castle advisor persuaded him to get an instrument from oversees—a piano." Her eyes were a calm emerald as always, giving a quick glance at the marble floors. "It reminded me of you. When you said that in Ōto Country, how you couldn't play… I was just wondering… Well, did you mean it, or can you actually…?"

She blinked softly at him. Fai's gaze traveled slowly to Syaoran's face, Mokona's giggling one, then mine, until drifting back to her.

"As a matter of fact, Sakura-chan…" he said quietly, eyes closing as an awkward smile met his lips. A kind, genuine one.

"You can?" Sakura blurted, eyes widening somewhat. When Fai nodded softly, a grin broke over her lips. "Oh, I had a feeling you could! Would you play it, Fai-san…? Please?"

"Oh, I…" A sheepish glance fell to the floor, but as his gaze rose to meet her pleading eyes, a little smile cracked across his lips, "…Okay."

Sakura lead him over to the piano the moment his whisper of agreement left his lips, babbling all the way. Mokona cheered and bounced after them, and having nothing else to do and intrigued by the idea, Syaoran and I followed.

Fai settled himself on the bench, the royal blue of his coat highlighting the rich color of it. His fingers, naked of their gloves, were pale and slender, resting softly on the keys.

He took time to choose a tune, but when those fingers sunk into the keys, dancing gently across the ivory, eyes eventually sifting closed…

It seemed effortless to him, to produce such a beautiful sound. He grew lost in it, and I knew everyone realized it as the tune progressed, how it differed from other songs. He had the talent that so many musicians described. He gave life to a song. He sang wordlessly with it.

His hands slid up and down the keys, from one octave to the next, fingers joining and parting in complicated and simple pairs of chords. The tune, quiet, then building; rising, fading.

The room was filled with music, vibrating off the walls and drowning us speechless. None of us could do anything but listen.

When the song ended, painfully fast for the observer, peacefully slow for the pianist, his gentle eyes opened to see four very different faces.

Sakura was simply in awe. Her emerald eyes were wide, placid shock over her face. Pink lips parted slowly upon the ending of the song, and she hardly noticed Syaoran; he stood next to her, eyebrows in the clouds, yet a pleasantly surprised look on his face, impressed.

Mokona was between the two. Its ears were limp, and its eyes wider than I've seen them before. After "ah!"-ing for the longest time, it sprung up with applause.

And then there stood me. Blank faced, aside from furrowed brows. Body still. Jaw scraping the floor.

The others soon pounced Fai with praise for his talent, and baffled, blushing softly, he fumbled with words to accept it. I just stood there, spitting out curse-laden whispers of bewilderment under my breath.

My first thought was, other than his amazing talent, why the hell this man wasn't sitting in a piano bar making hundreds of dollars each night.

. : : .

I felt a small smirk meet my lips as I remembered ranting off to the mage so many months ago, about not using his talent for something like commissions or piano bars. How he had replied with a puzzled face, and then a laugh.

"Why should it be about money?" he had said.

I subconsciously looked over at the blonde, currently flopped on the dark couch across from me. The dim lighting of the room highlighted the book in his hands. He seemed bored with it, and I wasn't surprised—though he made it a point for himself to read something on occasion, he would usually become bored if the storyline seemed too dry or predictable; he had been on the seventh page for the past ten minutes.

I looked back up at the ceiling. On evenings like this, I sometimes found it necessary to take a little nap now and then. I was having trouble with the attempt, which was odd. If I set myself to it, I could fall asleep within seconds. Then I had an idea.

"Hey," I said softly, blinking over at him. He looked up from his book. Eyes icy, soft. Gaze drowsy, yet hopeful with a childish sparkle, waiting for something else to do. Ponytail flopped on one shoulder…

I glanced over at the black grand piano angled near the window, then my gaze went back to him. When he quirked his brows at my silence, I settled more into the couch and said softly:

"Play for me."

He blinked. It was rare I made such requests, and I knew it. But…it was nice, on occasion. So he smiled, and he did.

And I listened, eyes closing. Listened to the quiet tune, and the gentle rhythm of the pedaling and the keys flowing beneath his fingertips.

I woke a few hours later to a dark room and silence. And yet, there was that feeling again, the tune still in my head. Only this feeling was accompanied by another: that of a cuddle monster-blonde curled on top of me, a blanket laid over us. I shook my head softly with a humored smirk before falling back to sleep. The idiot.

* * *

**One of my longest chapters yet, whoo! I'm quite proud of this one, and this is, shockingly, the first chapter I've fully written on paper before typing it out. I'm currently on vacation and I didn't bring my computer with me, so I just took to writing it out first...I find I rather like doing it this way ^ ^ I might continue it.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I put a lot of work in to it! I might have some typos, I just checked it over briefly...I'll double-check in the morning. I'd like to thank all my readers, and please continue to review~  
**


	12. Clothes

"…So…'good evening' is _Kobanwa_…"

Fai had muttered this quietly while examining the scroll beside him. The rolled out parchment was the color of sand, crinkled by years of use and stained gold with age. He meticulously copied the kanji on a separate scroll, tracing each curve and delicate line in thick strokes of ink to form the vowels of the greeting.

After finishing, he set down his brush and turned the page to me, grinning triumphantly. "Did I do it right?"

"Yeah." I wanted to roll my eyes and snap at him that it was nothing to get excited over—copying characters wasn't difficult at all. But Fai was a person always fascinated by different culture. Learning how to speak in new languages, and to write them, if they used characters or symbols instead of words, was one of the many things he treasured about travel.

Conversing with complete strangers, welcoming new worlds, and developing an admiration for other cultures were things that came almost instinctively to him. Being able to speak multiple languages seemed congenital, as well; I wasn't surprised that he picked up Japanese rather quickly, once I began teaching it to him. I had started the basic lessons around the beginning of last June. By the end of December, he was nearly fluent in it.

This brings me to where I was before.

It was mid-July of last summer. We had taken to spending the summers in Nihon, since Tomoyo almost always sent us invitations to join her at Shirasaki, if our journey allowed. It was the second time we had arrived upon our departure to Clow, and I was starting to think that it wouldn't hurt to begin teaching Fai about the Japanese culture.

As I've said, the lives of other worlds absolutely fascinated the mage. He seemed to adore that of Japan even more so than the others.

The clothing, the food; the landscape, propriety and mannerisms—he fell in love with all of it. So, of course, when I suggested teaching him Japanese (it was more of me randomly slamming him into a chair one morning and announcing that we were learning the basics), he was more than enthusiastic to begin.

Japanese is one of the more difficult languages to learn, with the different ways to use the context, and the multiple additions for courtesy. I started out in sections, breaking down each phrase and the multiple manners one might speak it, showing the kanji for each one. That was the way I learned it, and it seemed easy for me. He picked it up rather quickly this way, so I continued it.

Whenever I would teach him something new—the first time I showed him how to say hello, he paraded around the castle happily cheering _Konnichiwa!_ to every servant he passed—he always wanted to go out and converse with others, to try to see if he could get the hang of simple conversation. Talking came easily to him, anyways, so though he was slow with getting the vowels and accents right, everyone was always pleased at the progress he was making. He became a regular favorite around the castle, which seemed a slight nuisance to me after we were bowed to forty times a day. The bowing was another thing he found interesting, and he joked around sometimes, bowing back and forth to me in swift motions until we eventually conked heads.

At meals, he always grinned at the foreign setups and the low tables, unable to shut up about how cute the cushions or the furniture were. Then came the chopsticks. The dreaded, goddamn chopsticks. It took four weeks of holding his hands in place (blushing in aggravation at every "Aww" that slipped from viewers), and showing him how to pick up food, before he started to get the hang of it—and even then, he would give up after the first few tries and simply resort to stabbing his meats and lettuce, and making some sort of cushion between the two for rice and noodles (causing me to face-palm so many times I started to wonder if my forehead would stay pink the rest of my life). I almost fell to my knees and cried with pleasure the day he finally figured out how to work them.

The fashion of the Japanese culture was another thing he found interesting. I remember the first few days of getting him accustomed to the kimonos and yutakas you would wear for lighter, summer clothes.

"…It's just one piece?" he had asked, looking at me awkwardly as he fiddled with the sewn layers, and what to tie where.

"Yes, one piece," I replied dryly, turning to help him tie it. "Not that complicated…" Then I had paused, noticing, from what partially-fastened areas of the kimono there were, how much skin was still revealed. Particularly, the slit on the front between the two folds of fabric, which trailed almost completely up his right leg. The whisper was heavy on my tongue and my face felt hot. "…You are wearing something underneath, right…" It came out more as a demand than a question.

He tilted his head. "You wear something underneath?"

Trying hard to resist the blood welling up in my sinuses, I grabbed shorts from the closet and threw them at his face, turning away. "Y-Yes you wear something underneath, you moron!" I couldn't really blame him, it's not like he had worn the clothes that many times before. But still, how stupid could you be…

After the hardships of tying kimonos and walking around in a way that wouldn't make them clamber off (he had done that before, too, still accustomed to the elongated spring in his step that didn't exactly work with the confines of such clothes), there came the geta. These were the traditional footwear you wore with the kimonos and yutakas, the ones most westerners look at and wonder, "How the hell do those idiots walk around in stilt sandals?" That wasn't far from Fai's notion the first time he tried on a pair. Wobbling around as if he were wearing stilettos, it took quite a few days of stumbling and face-planting to become accustomed to them.

But there was no doubt Fai loved the Japanese culture to pieces. He took enjoyment in just about everything, even if it was just taking a walk down to the town below the castle, viewing the distant harbors and the bustling streets.

His eyes always lit up at nighttime, venders smiling with offerings of trinkets and food, with the glow of paper lanterns floating above us on the rims of rooftops. The sound of people striding by and voices jumbled with conversation, knifes scraping in daring acts, the occasional dog barking happily for a treat of salmon. He treasured it all, each person he met and each day that passed.

As the summers went by and we left Nihon, to either go out to other worlds with the kid, or just take a moment to relax in another area, I started to notice how the different cultures reflected on Fai's personality. Seeing different views of life; different religions, welfare, or styles of people; humbled him even more than he already was. He welcomed any view of life with a serene embrace that left people of all nationalities, beliefs, and customs able to feel welcome with him. It was very suave, in a ways. Simply uncontrolled, something he did as a normality. His genuine character.

Another way the culture affected him was in his sense of fashion. Whenever we entered a world that was modern and contemporary, with stores of all genre and restaurants to match, Fai would take some things here and there to add to his vast collection of clothes. He loves scarves and necklaces. Odd ones, that are interesting to look at; lots of color and mixed patterns, things to be used more as accents than anything.

Sometimes I find myself looking at him a bit more than usual; the way his hair sways when he steps out into the sun, icy eyes matching the smile on his lips. Sometimes I find myself noticing his clothes more, too; the way he almost always combines things with something different, to add a new splash of design against a piece he's already worn before.

His clothes are mixed and matched, a palette of opposites and compliments that attracts someone's eye twice. They show off his admiration for travel in the way he wears them, like recycled kimono cloth as shoelaces on his converse, or the mixture of leather bracelets he wears, and the rubber ones, for the charities he supports; the thin cotton of an Arabic shirt, knotted and stringed with patterns of swirl and symbolism. It's rather interesting for me, seeing what he'll put together next, when I wake in the morning to his sleeping face buried into a pillow.

And it was then it clicked in my head, as I watched Fai one afternoon as he tended to the gardens he had planted. The roses and the lilies mixed with chrysanthemum and hedge, entering into a grove that fell behind the small river there. I found myself dumbstruck, almost flabbergasted, as that realization snapped into my brain.

I had simply been lost in thought, watching his silky hair gleam in the sunlight and his eyes bright with laughter as he mentioned something about frogs in the riverbed. Watching his light clothes ripple with the breeze, the collared shirt loosely buttoned, sleeves rolled up, scarf flowing in unison with his ponytail. The dark jeans fitting to his slim legs; the gray, lace-less shoes stepping gingerly on the ground.

And I realized Fai was attractive. I had realized it before—hell, anyone could take one look at him and assess that—but not like this. To be honest, I was a little surprised at myself.

He wasn't attractive. I mean, _god_…this man was…very attractive…pretty…maybe even more than pretty…this man was sexy…

And blinking, flustered, blank-faced, as I stared at his oblivion, I blamed my reminiscing and his clothes. Had to be. The clothes and the hair. And the eyes. And that smile. And the clothes…with the scarf thing…

…Damn clothes.

* * *

**I think I might have had a little too much fun with the ending of this chapter… I'm sorry, but it's true :3 And I just find it too hilarious/slightly adorable when I think of Kuro checking him out like that, because yes, my dears, Fai is very pretty. *cough* Now, anyways, I owe quite an apology…I don't know how long it's been…two weeks? Three? Four? Dear Jesus. I was unhappy with this chapter for quite some time, writing and rewriting it twice before I finally settled on this version, and I'm pleased with it now ^ ^- My computer has also been a butt lately, so my edits for the previous chapter may or may not have gone through… *scowls* …Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did~ And I guess it's pretty obvious what the next chapter will be about. Yay! **

**As ritually boring as it is, I repeat my lovely quota here at the end: thank you for reading, and please continue to send me reviews, views, and suggestions! xD**


	13. Physique

I swear to god, it's not my fault. It's not my goddamned fault. Even though he was yelling at me, and we were both blushing, and I'm still trying hard not to stare…

Dammit.

…Yeah, yeah, I know–you're probably going, "What the hell is this?" and getting all suspicious, and I'm just digging myself a deeper grave… Fine, I'll explain.

It was two days ago—well, two nights ago, really—and we had just finished dinner (which was to-die-for calamari with some Chinese cabbage, and this really good potato-carrot soup thing). I was in my bathroom, getting ready to take a shower, before I realized I didn't have any towels. This confused me, while at the same time pissing me off, because Fai does the laundry and he's usually pretty good about keeping everything stocked up.

At that time, I was tired, and figured going to the other wing of the house just for a towel was a waste of time; so I decided to head across the hall and snag one from Fai's bathroom.

Well, let me guess. You probably know where this is going. And yeah, you're right.

I can be a bit of an idiot sometimes, so I didn't pay any attention to the fact that Fai's shower had just cut off. I could still hear the occasional drips of water hitting the tile, and his room felt warm from where steam had seeped beneath the crack of the bathroom door.

I didn't bother to knock, flicking the door open and giving a dry mutter of, "Hey, you got any—?"

…And so much for denying speech impairments.

The first things I saw were two pale feet on a white towel, and my gaze climbed from there. Long, slim legs. The white cotton I praised Jesus for, precariously hanging from a frozen hand, around his hips. The lazy form of his torso and the muscles that crevassed it. Broad shoulders, and lanky arms, and pinked cheeks; wide blue eyes, and dripping blonde hair.

I managed to find my voice somewhere between all that. "…Towels…"

Paralyzed at the abruptness of my entrance, Fai barely managed spluttering pieces of questions before his fingers slipped.

Down went the towel, down went the dam holding my nosebleed, and down went Fai.

I heard just about every screamed profanity and embarrassed squeak in a mere twenty seconds. From, "W-What are you d-doing—? _Get ou_t!" to, "T-The laundry room's right down the hall, get your own goddamned crap!" to him resorting to just throwing towels at my face and chasing me, naked, out of his room and slamming the door shut.

…Just a typical night, really.

And as you can see, it is not my fault! If you don't want someone coming in your bathroom, at least lock the damn door. Well, that's what I would assume. He didn't exactly seem to take it that way. I was dubbed a horny pervert and nosy dumbass for several weeks.

But, honestly, not like he hadn't "accidentally" done the exact same thing to me. I'm just a bit more of a spaz, I guess, in those situations. And he doesn't really care, unless I walk in on him, and then he just throws things at me. He seems to have a knack for that.

Anyways, I guess you could say that unintentional awkwardness was what started it…and no, for god's sake—I don't mean it like it! I just began observing things differently about him, that I never really paid attention to…his physique, for example. Or how soft his skin is. Or (somewhat resulting from seeing the way he dresses), how he actually isn't as thin as a twig, as I've always thought. Or my bafflement on how he thinks lounging around for a few days makes him gain twenty pounds.

Speaking of which…

. : : .

"…I feel fat…"

It was about a month ago, and I was laying on the couch with an arm slung over my eyes, trying to get a midday nap. During that time, Fai had been busying himself by cleaning the house, and was currently dusting.

At his grumble of weight gain from too much pasta (Fai loves Italian cuisine more than anything), I brushed my forehead with the back of my arm and groaned, "Why would you gain weight from one dinner…?"

"Pasta is very fattening!" Fai retorted, glancing over at me defiantly with hands on his hips. He slouched and later mumbled, "But it's so good…"

"Look, you're not going to get fat just from eating pasta. You're stick-thin anyways, you idiot." I sat up and rubbed my eyes. "You don't even have a figure. If anything, you need to eat…"

I have had several times where I've caught Fai avoiding food. I know he isn't anorexic, but occasionally he skips one meal too many, however not consistently. Whenever I question him about this, he just states he's not in the best spirits, or doesn't feel like eating; and even though that's a cheap-ass excuse, I've had enough arguments with him about it, and I know he'll start eating again the second I bring it up.

"Kuro, I eat," Fai sighed, turning back to polish a display table by the foyer. "I just think I'm getting a little…chunky, in some areas." I looked blankly at him as he stared in the mirror above the case, turning this way and that to get different angles of himself. I shook my head, thinking about how he sounded like a woman.

"Fai, it's not that big of a deal…"

"If I get love handles, I'll cry." His tone was sarcastic, but his lips twisted into a pout. He bickered to himself about various things that I was just in the clouds about, until one statement drew my mind to a complete blank. "…And now I have a big butt…"

One of my brows raised. "…You think you have a fat ass…?"

I could name hundreds of situations where I was confused out of my mind, but that instance was definitely one of the more prominent ones.

"Well, look!" Fai turned to the side. He poked his hip. "Wah…it jiggles…"

I slapped my hands over my face. Jesus Christ. "It's an ass, Fai. Unless you're some trampy girl who actually cares to work that thing—"

"That's rude, Kurgs…"

I rolled my eyes. "Why should you even care? I mean, for the love of god…" But for some reason, when I looked back at him, I couldn't peel my eyes away. He was wearing a blue button-down that was a little bit loose, the sleeves rolled up some, and dark jeans that lightly fitted him. He was barefoot, and had on a simple necklace that came a few inches below his collarbone, his ponytail flopped over one shoulder. But now that he just had to bring up his ass, I couldn't stop looking at it.

This wasn't awkward at all.

"Look, just shut up, it's not a big deal…"

"But—"

"Fai, you look fine." Actually, he wasn't stick-thin at all…he was slim and well proportioned, but he had a decent build of muscle, and his hips had the slightest curve, as they should…why he was complaining about his ass was beyond me, but it wasn't fat…in fact…

"Tight-ass," I muttered. Fai's brows shot up before furrowing slightly, looking back at me with a puzzled expression. I felt my face get hot. "I-I mean…uh…you brought it up!" He dropped the dusting rag and sighed in frustration, bending down to get it. My eyes were glued. This didn't go past his attention, and he quirked one brow.

"Why are you staring…?" he said softly, his cheeks hued with pink.

"I-I'm not staring!" Why the hell was I stuttering?

"…Yes you are…" Why the hell was I blushing?

"Just get me a beer!" I snapped my gaze to the floor and rubbed my neck. Fai glanced to the side with that questioning expression still on his face, shaking his head slightly before going to the kitchen. And I sat there, bright red, trying to think about other things.

…Again, not my fault…he really shouldn't ask about that subject…

. : : .

So I guess that's just how things are, with us. Kind of awkward. Kind of humorous. And sometimes I'm just as much the clown as he is.

But despite all that nonsense, I have to admit…Fai is nowhere near fat, and despite my usual bickering, is not a twig. He has soft skin, a nice body, and be damned, a nice ass. (And Jesus, I told you—don't look at me like that!)

All in all, his physique is not bad to look at. But it's more than just that; more than that he's an amazing pianist, or a god of a cook, or is kind, or anything in those aspects. Fai's Fai. And there's a lot of him that I haven't talked about…that dark side I've only vaguely mentioned, that I still face very frequently. A huge part of him that makes up who he is. The melancholy in his heart; the need to hear that he looks nice, or that he's a good person. That he should live, even though he says he won't throw away his life anymore. The part he can't control.

I'll tell you about that part, too, because it's very important to understand…

The huge part of Fai that is his depression.

* * *

**I am back, after several painstaking months! I'm terribly sorry for the pause. Getting used to a new school year and being busy with family issues have distracted me from this e^e'' But I'm ready to have some new ideas going and get back on the road~ I decided to give you guys another dose of humor and implication xD **

**Well, as you can see, the next few chapters will start taking a more serious tone on the subject of Fai's depression. I always thought this would probably be a big piece of Fai's character, considering his past and how tentative he is to care for people, and the fact for a long time that he could care less about his life. I know a lot more about this topic than I did a few months ago, so I feel confident that I'll be able to give some clinical evidence in the chapter, while being able to stay with the plot. This will also be a big section where I see Kurogane really being there for Fai.**

**I'd like to thank the readers that have joined along the way, and the ones that have stuck with me from the beginning! Your reviews mean so much, especially when I need that inspiration. Thank you! Merry Christmas, and please continue to R&R~**


	14. Depression

Fai was sitting at the table this morning, the plastic canister he held rattling slightly as he dropped two white pills into his palm. He was silent a moment before looking up at me, his eyes veiled by wisps of blonde bangs.

"How much longer, do you think?" he murmured quietly, looking back at the orange bottle. My lips straightened as I glanced to the side. How long has it been…?

"I dunno," I sighed, and caught the small frown that met his lips. He popped the capsules in his mouth and washed them down with a drink of water. Waiting for him to finish, I clanked a plate of charred toast in front of him, and felt my cheeks sting at the blank look he gave me. "Well, you need to eat something," I blurted, scowling to the side. He shook his head, a ghosting of a smirk on his face.

"How do you even…" he began, a breathy chuckle slipping, before he stood and gave my shoulder a playful shove. "I appreciate it, but please," he mused, setting the canister back in the cabinet, "If you keep trying to cook, you'll burn the whole house down."

"Like hell I will!" I roared, blushing, as he grinned at me before pulling out a skillet and clicking on the burners.

This is usually how most our mornings go. Throughout the chaos of cooking and arguments and me yelling about wanting food (only to have him taunt back that I need to be a good puppy to get my bacon), there lies a routine we've fallen into over the years. Along with that routine is the occasional bump in the road, where my true role comes into play.

Under all the layers of being a ninja (which are many, including my occasional anger-management issues), rests a gruffness and responsibility, and a care for Fai that's grown on me since the first months we started traveling together.

As I've mentioned before, I always knew Fai was a twisted person. It was obvious in the way he carried himself; how he shrunk back from certain situations, changing subjects at the drop of a dime and flitting around in a personality that screamed falseness. What I didn't know, however, was just how twisted that mind of his was.

It became more apparent to me the longer we journeyed—how much that mask was cracking him. The closer I got to him, the more those tiny details stuck out. The fidgeting, the tentativeness; the melancholy that grew more and more severe, in those eyes. I knew it was more than just tricks and façades; there was something deep and uncontrolled that grew throughout his very system, something that played with his head and kept turning that timid heart into stone.

It didn't take long for me to figure it out, in the end. Everything pointed to it. The nightmares, the uncertainty, the lies and the grief—Fai had depression. Not simple, desultory depression. The kind that was unkempt and deadly, that made the feel of a steak knife cutting through meat bring images of ripped flesh, thin fingers weakening on a blade through your chest. The kind that never let haunting images leave your mind. The one that when someone says goodbye, even for a moment, it feels like your world has crashed down on you and you're left alone, as it always seems.

Even if none of these things were true, that's just the way it was. That type of depression is like playing with fire. And Fai had dealt with it for a long, long time.

Just understanding a prediction like that, however, doesn't amount up to the reality of living with it. I can never forget the thought of how many times Fai has spat at me that none of this was my business; that I hadn't gone through what he had. No matter how much I tried to help, he consistently resisted me despite the fact that he needed it. He knew he needed it. He couldn't wrestle with that pain alone, and relying on himself to solve the problem wouldn't get him anywhere. Me trying to help him was like talking to a wall most the time, so I doubt his own self-arguments were much better.

Still, it takes the person dealing with the issue to make the first step to recovery. Even though he still struggles with his depression sometimes, I'm always there to make sure he stays focused on what he needs to, and gets his head out of the cobwebs of lies and burdens. Even doing that, in essence, is much harder than it seems.

To find a good start for this part of Fai, I guess I need to go back to the very beginning, and explain how I started truly seeing this other side of him. The glimpses under his mask gradually turned into something darker and more vicious than I had expected, and though I never thought I would manage to rip that façade off of him, the first time I was able to honestly see Fai was the day that I did. To go back before that, though, and explain a few things first, I'll need to start at the times when I saw those different characteristics come through.

So, to begin, it started in Ōto Country.

. : : .

I have never been a fan of being fawned over. However, it was easily apparent to everyone that Fai didn't mind the attention at all.

Whenever we traveled to a new world, people would always stare in confusion at our odd clothing and band-of-misfits appearance. Syaoran and Sakura looked similar enough that they weren't gawked at, but the four of us together, with my thick tan and black clothes and Fai being the princess of the North Pole, always attracted eyes.

I hated it, more than I can even say. One of the worlds I loathed the most, by far, was Ōto Country. Granted, the area was quaint and peaceful, and had enough demons to actually give me something to do, but the _people_. Dear god.

The first time we landed in Ōto, we were greeted by rows of women with arms flailed out, cheering our welcome like we were some rich-kid fandom from a shojo manga. If that doesn't explain it enough, I don't know what to tell you. Everyone was swamped by hoards of women (and men, mind you, as if the chicks weren't scary enough), telling us which way to go and, of course, exclaiming about our apparently exotic appearances.

Although Syaoran and Sakura were just politely flustered, Fai didn't have a care in the world. Even when surrounded by groups of pestering men and women, he welcomed the attention like second nature and, of all things, seemed to actually _enjoy_ it. Why he did was beyond me, but it opened up a thought in my mind, one of the first ones that made me really start to think about what was under that façade.

He liked the attention. Even though it was annoying as hell and consistent and ill-willed, he liked it. Having people fawn over him seemed to be something he treasured, in some way.

I could tell in his eyes, during any time people were crowded around us, that the acceptance of such actions was more than just being the center of attention. Somehow, it had been something he hadn't experienced much of, before. Not just the pestering and curiosity, but the fact that many people welcomed his presence and wanted to bask in it; to talk to him and relish his company, get to know him.

For some reason, that was important to him. But why?

Throughout our stay in Ōto, I continued to ponder over that. Why would someone strive for attention, if they always used to get it, before? Underneath the false giddiness, it was obvious in the way Fai carried himself that he had a decent social status in wherever he had lived prior to the journey. He might have even been royalty. I wasn't sure. All that I knew was that it was odd to be in that possible social ranking, when attention like that would be utterly loathed from years of battling relentless rumors and paparazzi, and yet he completely cherished the moment. It didn't make sense.

That was when it started to hit me. Either the country he had grown up in hadn't fawned over him like that, or he just didn't think of himself that way. Underneath the smiles and the reassurances of everyone else to be happy, perhaps he treated himself like dirt. Maybe he hated himself. Or maybe he really was just that stuck up.

Although I wasn't entirely sure, the realization of that notion was what sparked the interest for me to get deeper inside his head. He was distant, strange, and yet extremely intriguing…in a rather annoying sort of way. Despite the distance he held over himself, he flamboyantly thrust his carefree smile and immature personality into everyone's faces, as if screaming "Here I am! Look at me!"

Unconsciously, he was drawing attention to himself; unconsciously, that was what he wanted. He wanted people to see him and feel that happy-go-lucky vibe, that everything was A-Okay, that being at his side might lighten your mood even if it was because of his sheer stupidity. Under all that, at the actual core, he just wanted people to like him.

The more I pieced these things together, the more questions I had. Why would he want people to like him, and so profoundly? Why did he go to such lengths to be a bumbling idiot just to make someone smile? Why was it so special to him?

I never really could figure it out. Even when I asked him about it (which was more of an interrogation about why he made himself seem like he had an IQ of 2.5), he just laughed it off and told me that I seemed to have an interest in him. Which then, of course, he would toss his hair and grin at me in a cheeky tongue-in-teeth manner, resulting in me growling profanities as I stalked away, grumbling about his complete idiocy.

It didn't take me long, however, to see that all those assumptions weren't very far from the truth. Despite his well-kept façade, whenever he was alone, he knew the mask wasn't needed and the smile would fall entirely. His cheeks almost seemed sore without the dimples that usually poked out from a too-wide grin.

The more I looked at him in situations like those, the more I saw how frail and uncertain he appeared when he was alone. An overwhelming sense of sadness and discomfort nearly radiated from him at certain times, when the mask had slipped a little. Despite a childish demeanor and an appearance barely gracing his mid-twenties, Fai's blue eyes had a sense of maturity that was night and day in comparison to his bright smile. When he didn't smile, and you saw him sitting on a parlor couch, his barista apron set aside and the collar to his button down loose, there were creases of contemplation between his brows and at the sides of his lips, and his eyes looked old. Very old. Eyes that had seen more in his time than he wished to say, that were cold and melancholic and wise.

When catching a glimpse of this Fai, what I came to understand was the true personality hiding under a grinning mask, it was hard to even associate it with the same person. How could someone truly thoughtful and collected, perhaps, be constantly hiding under a plastered smile and girlish squeals?

At that time, I just didn't know. And I still wouldn't know, for a long time after that.

. : : .

It wasn't until we arrived many months later, in a world of despised war and bloodshed, that I was able to truly get Fai to open up.

Perhaps it was just fate that we landed face-down on the battlefield of a distant country; that it was the chance I had secretly been praying for, to get us out of the close-knit domesticity where he had felt so at ease in a false persona. No matter the reason, it was what neither of us had expected.

Yama was the kingdom of Yasha, a ruler perceived as a god who waged constant war against a female king named Ashura. In the world before that one, the name Ashura had appeared before, relating to the enemy god-king. When Fai had first heard that name, I knew it struck something deep inside him—the recognition in his eyes had been unmistakable. But still being around Syaoran and Sakura, he found no need to let the thought dwell on him, even though he continued to seem a little off after that.

When we were transported to the next world, however, Fai and I landed on Yama alone.

I could sense the uneasiness that immediately met his form when he saw this. The kids must have been taken to the kingdom that Ashura ruled over, along with the damned manjuu, as we soon realized.

We stayed in Yama for six months, in a separate time than the others. Over those six months were key things that I was finally able to get Fai to open up about, things that, thinking of it now, would have never even been exposed had we not landed there.

It started, naturally, the moment we hit the ground.

: : : :

The landing was rough, as it always is when the cream puff transports us. I stood up with a growled curse and rubbed my neck, slumping forward and scowling.

"Great. Where the hell are we, now?" I snapped, looking around in confusion. The surrounding area was a field that seemed to stretch out for miles until cut off from a distant mountain range on either side, sparsely covered with grass and stained with the foul smell of blood and flesh. It didn't take me long to see that it was a battlefield, one that seemed to be repetitively used.

Though the scene wasn't too pleasant, seeing that remains of bodies were occasionally scattered in mangled heaps, I wasn't unaccustomed to such views and ignored the stench, turning to look at Fai. He was sitting on the ground in that odd way he usually does, perched on the balls of his feet with his elbows tossed over his knees. I noticed him rubbing his back of his head and tsked.

"Fell head first, huh? Not too surprising. That skull of yours could use a good beating." I continued to look around the area before noticing his confused gaze. "What?"

He blinked softly. "_Pourquoi parles-tu de cette façon?_"

My eyebrows shot up. "The hell?" I snapped, feeling my jaw slacken. Wait a minute…this had happened before. In that first world with the fatasses and anorexic punks. The rabbit-translator-thing must've gone with the kids.

"You have got to be freaking kidding me! Oh hell no!"

I continued to roar outraged curses and exclamations as Fai looked at me with an arched brow, the fingers in his hair slowing. Eventually he stood and quietly dusted himself off, biting his lip before going over to me. He held up his hands and giggled when I gave another exasperated yell.

"Je…Je ne sais pas ce que vous dites," he explained, as if I knew the answer to everything. I rolled my eyes and growled another curse, trying to fight the desire to wring his skinny neck. It took me a second to realize he couldn't understand me, either.

This was just perfect.

Giving up on trying to interpret his frilly little language, I grabbed the armor plate over his shoulder and started dragging him in a random direction. There would have to be people, somewhere, and eventually we ran across a man in similar armor riding some dragon-horse-thing that looked like a kangaroo from hell. I whipped back to Fai and made a neck-slitting gesture, eyes narrowed as he smiled teasingly at me, and turned back to talk to the stranger.

I found out, to my relief, that the man's language wasn't too far from my own, and was able to convince him that we were warriors needing a place to stay. I couldn't come up with much after that, and was left to blindly guess answers to his questions until we were examined and dubbed as reasonable candidates for their army. And after being dragged like prisoners for half a mile, I was resisting the urge to punch that hell-kangaroo's ass and send the guy flying, and the mage wasn't quite enjoying the trip, either.

: : : :

After a second round of examination and a welcoming from the generals, we were thrown without much choice into the Yama clan's army. It had been about four weeks since then, and I didn't mind the change in atmosphere at all. It was nice to be in a familiar setting again, knocking inexperienced men off their feet with a quick thrust of my elbow and feeling the weight of a blade in my hand.

Despite also having his wining rounds in fighting and becoming a common favorite with some of the men, Fai didn't express much interest in being in an army. When training wasn't necessary, he usually spent his time in the tent we shared or standing on a knoll by the perimeter, gazing out at the distant valleys. Archery and sword fighting were the usual methods of attack for the troop, and it didn't take long for Fai to show his skilled eye when pulling a feathered arrow behind his ear, lashes barely flickering as he shot at a good thirty yards away, hitting the target dead-center.

I noticed him practicing one evening on his usual knoll after coming out from the banquet hall, a few rounds of good beer in my stomach along with some pretty exceptional choices of meat. Deciding to join him, I walked up to a nearby tree and leaned against it with a weary sigh, looking out at the lowering dusk. Over the few weeks, we had started to figure out bits and pieces of each other's languages, and could converse somewhat better than before.

"Practicing?" I muttered, glancing over his form as he straightened his stance and pulled back another arrow, the string taunt and his lips blank. He released it after a moment and sent it soaring into the glen below, the quiet _thunk_ after a few seconds signaling it hitting his chosen target.

He glanced at me to check my meaning before nodding, releasing another arrow.

"Oui." Another, before he lowered the bow. "Et regarder." He gestured from his eyes to the sky.

I glanced as well at the mountains, brimmed with navy as the stars began peeking out. The sun had set a while ago. Nodding, I turned to look back at the tents, where a few men started to head to their bunks, the others in the banquet hall enjoying their ales.

"Want a drink?" I said after a pause, turning back to him. I jerked my head in hall's direction, following the sound of hearty laughter.

He shook his head at my gesture and released another arrow, his finger loosening on the string. It was then I noticed a maroon tint to a few of his fingertips; dried scabs and callouses had formed from lack of using such a weapon.

"…Well, then I'm getting one," I muttered with a sigh, leaning off the tree. He looked at me a moment, his touch on the bow faltering, before relaxing the string and following me. Half way to the hall, he reached out and lightly grabbed the fabric at my back.

"Attendez…" He looked back at me, pursing his lips, "Il est...il est de l'alcool dans le coffre. Si vous voulez un peu." He pointed to the tent. "Dormir?"

I knew 'dormir' to be sleep, and though I wasn't that tired, I gave a dismal shug and followed him. A few mugs of beer had already put a faint buzz in my head, and I knew I would get drowsy before long.

When we walked into the tent, he went over to a trunk near the corner and pulled out a bottle of clear ale, one I presumed to be some form of vodka, and handed it to me. I took a few drinks as he stripped his layers of armor and settled down in loose robes, taking a swig when I passed it to him. After a moment, staring off at the tent walls, I looked back and him and sighed.

"Tell me who Ashura is. You wouldn't say before."

He stilled almost immediately at the name, as I expected. He was silent for a while, his eyes slipping closed and his brows crinkling before looking at the floor with half-lidded eyes, a slight frown on his lips. He put on a smile, then, and turned away, but I grabbed his sleeve and stared into his nervous blue eyes.

"Tell me, Fai."

He parted his lips to speak, then pressed them, a tentative gaze falling on the fur bedding before looking back up at me. "Le Roi… Le souverain d'un autre monde. Le monde que j'ai vécu à l'intérieur avant je me suis rendu avec vous."

He gestured to his head to indicate a crown, meaning a ruler, and I knew 'monde' to be world. I figured he was saying that must have been the king of his country.

"…Why do you seem afraid?" I murmured, furrowing my brows as I reached out to touch his fingers, which had started trembling. Surprised at the contact, he twitched slightly and looked questioningly at me. I repeated, "Why?"

Looking away, he curled his fingers slowly around mine and exhaled. "Eh bien…i-il a commencé à devenir fou…" His touch was timid but soft, tightening slightly at the memory. "Il avait ces visions de l'avenir… Ils étaient terribles… Il a perdu son esprit. Et puis..." He clenched his eyes shut, a tick starting in his jaw. His voice softened, "Ne me faites pas penser à cela. S'il vous plaît."

I didn't really know what he said, but from the begging plea in his tone, I knew he wouldn't say anymore. Sighing quietly, I laced our fingers, not really thinking about the action, and felt him press his fingertips against the back of my hand. Still, I couldn't help that one question from slipping, the affliction in his tone making my mind churn.

"Did he hurt you…?" I said finally. "Fai, look at me." I turned him towards me by his shoulder, his pain-filled blue eyes meeting mine with a timid melancholy. "Hurt? Did he hurt…?"

I wasn't really sure why I cared about that, why I even considered it. But the way he stared at me in alarm silenced my thoughts, his expression suddenly crumbling like clay.

"Il était comme un père pour moi…" His voice was shaky and fading with disbelief. "Un _père_. Mon père. Et il me prit po... Pourquoi aurait-il..." That tone was the one I had used so long ago, when speaking of the strength and fondness of my father. It made me freeze for a moment, realizing what I had unintentionally implicated. "Je n'avais pas de famille et il m'a pris... _Il m'a aimé_..." His words were growing weak and firing in rapid explanation from his mouth, almost uncontrollably, as he shook his head. "J'étais un fils pour lui... Il se souciait tant de choses sur moi, et maintenant..." His shoulders trembled, "Maintenant, je n'ai personne à nouveau..."

And it was then, that night, that I got my first look at Fai, as he broke down into my chest and suddenly began to sob, his fingers clenched in my shirt and the hand laced with mine tightening. After those months in Yama, months of ale and battling and nights similar to that, I saw a side to Fai that I thought was practically impossible to witness. And when I did, I wished very badly that I had never provoked that side to come out.

But if I hadn't, I would have never really understood him. Not the way I do now.

. : : .

Seeing that side of Fai changed me, to be honest. It made me realize how gruff I can be, and also, how gentle; how sometimes that's needed. The guilt and sadness is just one small part of his depression, and even though it seems like only bad memories, it really is a lot more than that.

He wasn't careless of his life for just any reason…for a while, he was serious about not caring if he lived or died. Waking up every morning seeing his brother's face, constantly reminded on all those holidays that he has no direct relative to give gifts to or welcome. I've caught him cutting before, attempting a few doses too many, and had days where he literally will not get out of bed. And with that, I'd rather not go into much detail…but, it's just a part of him. Sometimes it's alarming, but, it's what I've had to help him with. And he's nothing like he used to be.

He's happy, and carefree, and still refuses to shut up. He's definitely still a bumbling idiot. And he likes his alcohol, especially whenever Yuuko comes over. Speaking of which, I should probably mention a few of those times where the Witch visits and everyone gets completely hammered…because that happens a lot…and it's pretty interesting what goes on, when she gets over here…

But yeah. I shouldn't mention that one time when she made us drink bottles of sake, and then do that pointless American game where you spin it to kiss the next person… Wait… Dammit…

I shouldn't have said that.

* * *

**I am alive, after what, six months? Seven? I don't even know. I've been so busy, it's ridiculous - finals, summer school, vacation, anime con planning - I can't believe it's already July, and I haven't updated since Decemeber! Well I hope this MASSIVE chapter can make up for that ^^; I'm sorry that it's so long that not really a drabbly length, but once I started writing, I just really got into this passion from reading some books that reminded me of what happened in those situations. I know the subject of the chapter was pretty, well, depressing (bring on the rain, bebeh!), but as you can see I'd like to bring in some humor next that might involve some alcohol and a certain predicament~ Just hopefully it won't take me until Jan. to update! XD **

**I'm going to post the translation of all the French Fai said, in the order that it appears:**

-Why are you talking that way?

-I...I do not know what you are saying...

-Yes. And looking.

-Wait...there's...there's alcohol in the trunk. If you want some. Sleep?

-The King... The ruler of another world. The world I lived in before I went with you.

-Well... h-he started going crazy... He had these visions of the future... They were terrible... He lost his mind. And then... Do not make me think about that. Please.

-He was like a father to me... A father. My father. And he took me in... Why would he... I had no family and he took me... He loved me... I was a son for him... He cared so much about me, and now... Now, I have no one again...

**Thank you for reading, don't forget to review! :)**


	15. Drunk

Well…where to start. Can I insert a sigh here? Big, bold letters? Just cover the page, you know, "uggghhhhh"-ing for an hour? Yeah…? No? I guess that's not what you came here for.

Anyways.

It was late at night, one New Year's Eve, and everyone had come over to visit. And by everyone, I mean the Space-Time Bitch-and-a-half (with both manjuus, of course) and her spazzy helper Watanuki, and his maybe or maybe not boyfriend Domeki, who was stoic as hell. And the only one I could really talk to.

Along with that gang, Syaoran and Sakura had come over as well, bringing baskets of goods from Clow and giving us countless hugs as they came in.

Oh, and by visit, I mean party.

Not even ten minutes into the celebration, Yuuko brought out the booze. With Fai's gourmet appetizers strewn over the tables, everyone talked and nursed their drinks, and chanted when the countdown finally appeared, holding up their glasses with cheers for the New Year. Seems civilized enough; except that was before everyone started throwing back shots, and then flavored vodka was being passed around, and then laughter turned into tipsy giggles, and stupid games and _singing_.

Which left me in the middle of it all, my eyebrow twitching, just trying to enjoy my whiskey and drown out the sound of _very_ drunk singing coming from a _very_ drunk someone standing on a table. Who happened to be Fai.

So, there it was, around two a.m. on an early New Year's Day.

. : : .

"F-Fai-san, I—"

"_Weeelll cause yooouuuu~_" A hiccup. "_Ooooh ohh~!_"

"Fai-san, maybe you should sit down…"

"_Youuu~_" The mage stumbled on the table, throwing up his empty glass and nearly screeching, "_MAKE MY DREAMSSSS~_!"

"Wahh—! F-Fai-san—"

I kinda felt bad for the kid. Somehow, Fai had managed to drag Syaoran up on the coffee table with him, and the two were currently doing some strange cross between a waltz and a two-step. Yuuko, clapping and cackling in the corner, was not helping the situation at all, and the two Mokonas were singing their own obnoxious tune as they hopped in circles on the floor.

"Mage," I sighed, smirking a little as Syaoran fumbled to escape from Fai's lazy hold. "Tone it down a bit, would'ja?"

"Hall and Oates are _legends_!" Fai announced dramatically, slinging his arm over Syaoran's shoulders. "You…you gotta…_sing it to the world_!"

"Yeah, yeah. Now get off the table, idiot."

Syaoran finally succeeded in escaping and stumbled over to Sakura with flushed cheeks, who giggled and patted his hair. Therefore, Fai was left to pout at the loss of company and look at the floor perplexedly.

"Kurrrooo~…" he whined, "The floor's so farrr~"

"No, you're too drunk," I grumbled, and set down my whiskey to go retrieve him. "Now quit mewlin'." I lifted up his languid form, but before I could put him on the floor he wound himself around me and grinned, cheering, "Teddy saved me~!" Yuuko burst into giggles.

"Teddy?!" I roared, and felt my cheeks grow hot. "Where the hell did 'teddy' come from?"

Fai hummed and poked my cheek. "Kuro's a teddy bear!"

"I am _not_! Shaddup!"

Yuuko still laughing, I tossed the blonde on the longue chair I had been sitting in with a snarl and stalked off to get another drink, during which Domeki gave me a nod for another one as well and Watanuki glared at him and began spazzing again.

A few minutes later, as the more sober-ish participants started to chat again (mainly Sakura and Syaoran, though both had enjoyed their small drinks), Yuuko called everyone's attention by holding up a empty blue champagne bottle that we had all finished as our cheers after the countdown. I had just given Domeki his lighter drink and was pondering how I was going to get a certain blonde off my chair when the witch cheered, "Game time!"

Sakura and the Mokonas started talking excitedly, while Watanuki was glaring suspiciously at the bottle. Figuring the game would be pointless, I huffed an annoyed breath and attempted to shove Fai off the chair, which didn't do anything to the giggling blonde.

"It's called 'Spin the Bottle'!" Yuuko continued. "So everyone sit in a circle!"

"What do we do?" Sakura asked, sitting beside Syaoran.

Yuuko grinned, and for some reason she threw a malicious smile right at me. "Why, it's a kissing game! Whoever the front of the bottle faces, you have to kiss!"

And then the innocent hime's face was bright red.

"O-Oh, well, I…" She looked awkwardly at Syaoran, who also appeared flustered.

"You don't have to play if you don't want," Yuuko reassured, "Buuut that takes the fun away, right?"

"If she doesn't want to play, don't make her," Watanuki murmured.

"Oh, you're all cowards," Yuuko gaped as she threw up her nose. "Fine, then. I'll find someone else to play with."

"Mokona will play!"

And then Fai was plopping in their little circle, fist pumping dramatically. "Let's do this!"

Yuuko then turned to me, oh _shit not me_, and wagged her finger.

"Now, Kurogane-sensei, surely you wouldn't want to be all left out…?"

I gave her a deadly glare and clenched my teeth. "No. Way. In. Hell."

"Kurrrooo-teddy's no faiiirrr~" Fai gave me a pouty frown and looked at me with those big blue eyes. Damn those eyes.

"No."

"Why nooot~?"

"No."

"_Pretty_ please~?"

"_No_."

Then Yuuko's singsong voice, grinning through her words. "The Mokonas and I won't bother you for a month."

Needless to say, I sat down in their stupid circle.

. : : .

Even through I'm pretty sure no one was hammered enough to have the rules go over our heads, Yuuko explained them again while holding the champagne bottle like some kind of idol, her eyes sparkling. Once she was finished, she set the bottle on its side on the floor and slapped her hands together in determination.

"Me first!"

And so the witch spun it, grinning excitedly, and for some reason she kept looking up at my bored expression and Fai's smiley aloof one. The bottle stopped facing one of the Mokonas, who jumped up in joy and bounded to Yuuko's shoulder, giving her a little peck on the cheek with a squeaky, "Ta-da!"

Giggling and clapping, Yuuko said it was the other Mokonas turn, who was sitting between the witch and I. The pork bun gave the bottle a quick spin and acted all bashful when it landed on Fai. The mage just chuckled and leaned down to give it a kiss on its fuzzy forehead.

"There you go, Mokona~"

"Aww, Fai is so sweet!" it cheered.

I groaned then when I realized it was my turn.

"So…what do I do…?" The words were sluggish on my tongue and I scratched the back of my neck.

"Spin it, of course!" Yuuko cheered, her hands on her chin expectantly.

"Okay…" My lips pressed, and giving the witch a glare – why did I agree to this, again? – I hesitantly grabbed the bottle and spun it, watching the forms it drifted past cautiously as it slowed…manjuu, Fai, Yuuko, manjuu, me – could it land on me? I wouldn't have to do anything, thank god, land on me – manjuu, Fai, Yuuko, manjuu…me… (shit, it was slowing down) …manjuu… (shit) …Fai…

It stopped.

Shit.

"Hell no," I snapped, as Fai burst out laughing. My face getting red again, I snatched the bottle and whipped it around so it faced me, jerking my head to the side definitely.

"There. Landed on me. Don't have to do anything. Nope."

"Kurogane-sensei~" Yuuko cooed. "You can't cheat~"

"Nope. Nope, nope, _nope._"

Yuuko poked my shoulder slyly.

"Is Kuro-sensei being a coward? What happened to Mr. Big Manly Man swordsperson? Too _embarrassed_ to kiss someone~?"

"_No_!"

"Then get on with it~ You don't want to offend Fai, do you~?"

And then I just had to look at those eyes, those pouty blue eyes starting to fill with completely _fake _tears because he has _done that before_, and the frown trying so hard to not lift into the smile right behind it, and the quirked brows, and…

Dammit.

Yuuko's fangirlish squealing and the joyous laughter from around the room roared into my ears as I bit back a growl and did what I had to.

Fai's lips were soft, and he tasted like the whipped cream vodka he had been drinking. Yuuko was patting me furiously on the shoulder, rambling excitedly, "Make it count~! Make it count! If you don't, I won't stick to my promise~!" and I was resisting the urge to punch her. Fai's knee brushed my hip, and it took me a moment to realize I had pressed him to the floor, and by that time I was already drowning in that sickeningly sweet flavor as I got a taste of his tongue.

I finally pulled my wits together and lifted my head with pant, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and coming to my feet. Yuuko and the Mokonas erupted in applause and my face was hot, and grumbling curses, I hauled my ass to the kitchen and stuffed my face in the fridge.

And making matters worse, amidst the chuckles and Yuuko's ranting, I heard Fai's angelic giggle joining in with the others and his breathy coo of, "Hot damn." Which raised another round of applause.

. : : .

So with that, I will tell you, the witch did not keep her promise. She came over even more than usual that month, continuing to ramble and bringing crap we didn't need, with both the Mokonas perched on her shoulders and greeting us with singing cheers of, "Fai-Fai and Teddy-weddy, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I—", the pause being where I chase them across the house with a roar and throw the nearest thing at their furry hides.

I haven't forgiven them since.

* * *

**Finally, some inspiration! Yes, I know I've been gone a long time again. School has a ton of more work this year, and that with volunteering hasn't left me with time to sit down and write out a full chapter, which is usually how I work best. But, anyways! I'm really happy with this chapter and I was chuckling at parts myself, so I hoped you guys enjoy it! Since my writing time is kinda unpredictable, I guess this story will just always be on hiatus after my updates, but I will be planning ahead for what I'm wanting to write. Since these are becoming more one-shots now, you guys can also send me some ideas for something you might want to see in the story :) Thank you for all your reviews and encouragement, you guys are great!**


	16. Cold

On occasion, when it's deep into the night, I'll find myself blinking with a yawn at the back of my throat, waking when there isn't much to wake up to.

It might be the crick in my neck, a knot that needs to be stretched out before I drift off again, or my pillow pulled up too far on one side. It might be the sound of silence in the house, still and dark, which although peaceful can sometimes be the most unnerving sound there is. More often than not, it might be the absence of heat at my side, the sheets limply folded where a sleeping form had been before.

Whatever the reason, on some nights I tend to wake up, and that night in particular was for two of those reasons. One, the house extremely quiet, and two, Fai was out of bed.

It wasn't unusual for him to get an early start, and I reminded myself this as I felt my hand drag tiredly over the comforter beside me, puzzled at the emptiness of the bed. Years of traveling and falling into the custom of sharing a room, and subsequently a bed, had left me growing used to having the mage by my side when I slept. The absence of that presence had become a more common cause for my waking in the middle of the night.

A quick glance at the clock on my nightstand, however, told me the wake-up call wasn't for coffee. The numbers 2:30 glared back at me in bold neon green, and I squinted a little before huffing out a sigh, flopping back against my pillow. Damn blonde with his damn insomnia.

I started to lift out of the cocoon of comforters to inspect the damage, only to have a gush to icy air hit my chest, knocking me back down into the pillows with a sharp curse. Even with the heat on, the house still felt like ice. An easy reminder to why I hated winter. I clenched my jaw and bit back a growl, counting those last few seconds of warmth before pulling myself to my feet with another curse, grabbing a black tee hanging lopsidedly from my drawer and going into the hall.

"Stupid skinny-ass magician from his damn north pole," I ground behind my teeth, searching around the dark wall for the thermometer and clicking up the temperature. I rubbed my palms over the raised hairs on my thighs and swore again. Why the hell didn't I have those flannel pant things? Part of me was tempted to steal a pair from the blonde's dresser.

With that thought, I was reminded why I got out of bed in the first place. Trying to go back to sleep certainly seemed like a better idea, in retrospect.

Grumbling again, I made my way down the hall, finding the wide living room and nearly walking flat into the baby grand piano in the process. I jerked back to avoid the suddenly appearing thing, narrowly missed stubbing my toe on a chair, and took a breath to steady myself before half-tripping on the coffee table.

I was tired, alright?

All this failing at avoiding furniture eventually got me to my target. The moon was a little clouded over from the light snowfall, the windows frosted at the corners, but enough light shown through to illuminate a head of pale hair and an upturned face folded up on the couch, a mug of something steaming held loosely between thin fingers and nestled between his knees.

I raised my brows and blinked a little at the sight, clearing my throat before rapping my knuckles lightly against Fai's skull. "Oi."

He stirred from his faraway state and turned to me, smiling softly. "Kuro~…come to join me?"

"No. I'm freezing my ass off." I sniffed somewhat, rubbing my eye. "You know it's, like, three in the morning, right?"

Fai shrugged, turning back to the view of the snow. "I couldn't sleep," he murmured, patting the mug on his knees before taking a sip with a sigh. "It's hot chocolate. Want some?"

"Tche. I don't drink that sugary crap."

His mouth dropped in a meekly-offended gasp. "It's not crap! I made it myself," he added, and gave me a haughty look before having another sip. "Mm. Just try it, please…?"

I glared at him suspiciously. He had a way with manipulating his words, especially when it came to cooking. The mage actually got me to try some fluffy pastry at one point, and he'd have my hide if I ever let him know I had snuck behind his back to take half the batch when he wasn't looking.

"…Fine," I groaned, those puppy dog eyes stabbing into me like they always do. I snatched the mug and examined the creamy brown drink with a frown, knowing he'd probably not let me live down this one, and that I really should just turn away now, but you know what, it was hot, I was cold, who gives a damn about the sugar.

I tipped it down the hatch with a quick gulp and nearly had to resist barfing. It burnt my tongue, the sugar was overwhelming, god it was worse than his everything-but-coffee coffee—

Quickly handing the mug back to him amidst his giggles of success, I coughed and spluttered before giving him a deadly scowl. He grinned triumphantly in return.

"I made you try it~" he sang.

"Never again," I spat, seething at the fact I had let him get to me. Nonetheless, the warmth of the drink had been pleasant, at best, and I shuddered a little as I felt the liquid slide down into my stomach. It didn't solve the loss of heat in the house, however, and I didn't hesitate in grabbing the few feet of blanket draped off the mage's form, dragging it over to myself as I plopped down beside him. "Whaddaya doing, anyways? It's freezing."

Fai hummed in response. "Feels nice," he said simply, finishing his drink. I gave him a glare. "What?" he chuckled, "I'm used to it."

"I know _you_ are. _I_ sure as hell am not!"

He gave a soft laugh and smiled apologetically.

"But really," I continued, "What's so nice about snow?" If anything, I'd think he would hate it by now, having lived in tundra climates for half his life. Fai didn't reply, but remained staring off outside the window with that distant look on his face, glancing down occasionally to swirl the remaining hot chocolate in his mug thoughtfully. He seemed to get an idea then and turned to me, grinning widely in a way that promised some stupid scheme.

"Let's go out~"

My pinky squeaked inside my ear. "What?"

"I said, 'let's go out'~"

"In the snow?"

"Yeah!"

"At three in the morning?"

"Why not?"

I knew the guy was an idiot, but the ideas he came up with never ceased to surprise me. And of everything to want to do, he chose this.

"I'm in boxers."

"Then put on pants, Kuro-dumb!"

"It's cold as hell outside. And I'm tired."

He whined and folded his arms, throwing me a frustrated pout. "You complain too much."

"I have a good frickin' reason!"

But somehow, through this bickering and complaints and the resurfacing of the fact that he had gotten me to try hot chocolate, I ended up outside, in the snow, with Fai, at three in the morning, everything pitch black save the lights from the deck and the glow of the moon overhead, a giant amount of the ungodly white stuff coming up to my knees, and me freezing my ass off even more.

. : : .

"_Fai_!" I roared, plunging into the deep snow with another step, leaving my legs stuck between two trenches encasing my feet. I wiggled slightly with a growl of frustration before falling onto my stomach. I was like a dog jumping into a winter wonderland for the first time, and digging myself a grave in the process. "I'm _sick_ of this ice cold _shit_—"

I felt the powdery smack of a snowball hitting the back of my head and heard a resounding giggle to my left, falling still a moment before flailing my limbs madly.

"Dammit, blondie, I'll get you for that!"

"I'd like to see you try, Kuro-wan~" Fai chuckled, squealing into the night and taking off away from me as I finally found my footing and raced after him. It didn't take me long to find my face against the snow again.

"How do you—" I grunted, pulling my leg out of yet another trench, "—how are you walking?!"

Fai darted around me with the grace of a poised feline, his feet never failing him against the snow. "You just have to learn how to walk, Mr. Grumps," he teased, standing my by downturned face. He stooped down inconspicuously and lifted his hand to his cheek, blowing a gush of air against my ear. I jerked away from him with a snarl.

"Stop that!"

He grinned. "Only if you catch me~" And then off he went again.

I dug my fingers into the snow, the clothes I had thrown on practically soaked and my hair covered with white, taking a few, calming breaths…

"Kuro-sparkle, that hairdo looks nice! You should keep it!"

Screw anger management. I sprang up with a roar, finding my footing and quickly kneeling down to form some ammunition, piling a set of snowballs into my arms. No sooner had I finished, I bolted towards him, a warrior in battle as I flung a snowball with a grumble. Fai dodged it with ease and ran away from me, rounding a quick curve around a tall pine. I slipped in the process of catching up to him and stumbled my way back into pursuit, cursing under my breath as I threw another. The snowball hit the back of his shoulder, and he gasped between his giggles as the ice went under the lip of his jacket collar and brushed his neck.

Trying to ward off my attacks, he bent over to make snowballs for himself, quickly aiming one behind himself to hit me haphazardly on my chest. I threw one on his back and just barely missed nailing the back of that golden head as he crouched down to shield himself, laughing in delight at my frustrated protest.

But at long last, my redemption finally came. The mage was about to burst off again before becoming tangled in his own feet, sending himself plummeting to his side in the snow with a whine. I descended on him with a cheer of success, pinning him quickly between my knees.

"Ha! That's what you get!" I snickered, mushing a snowball against his forehead. I threw another well-deserved snowball at the exposed skin of his neck, reveling in his plea of release between his breathless laughter.

"Okay! Okay~! Ah, it's cold! I'm sorry, I'm sorry~" Fai wheezed, shielding his face with his arms. I chuckled and let him go, resting back against the snow with a sigh. Our breaths formed white clouds above us, drifting up into the air.

"You really are an idiot," I muttered after a while, shaking my head before glancing over at him, his cheeks flushed from the cold and lips parted. "…dragging me out here this early…"

A smile spread over his face. "But it was fun," he chuckled, turning to me.

"Yeah…I guess it was." I stared up at the dark sky, still panting slightly. The cold air seeping through my clothes made me shiver, and I let out a slight growl. "I'm still freezing."

Fai laughed softly and came to his feet, reaching out a hand to help me up. We made our way back into the house, which had finally kicked up the heat, thank god, and grabbed some dry pajamas to change into. Needless to say, we ended up sleeping in well past noon that day, and the damn mage dared to serve me hot chocolate with my lunch.

I gotta say, I still don't think I'll ever build up a liking for that sugary crap, but running around in the snow at three in the morning may have helped me gain some toleration to the cold. What can I say? Revenge is sweet.

* * *

**Hello everyone, I have returned! I'm sorry for the slow update, yet again, and the slightly late festive mood (it's almost May? What?), but this was an idea I had wanting to do for months, and I just hadn't had time to write it. So! Here you are :) I hope you enjoyed this wintery chapter. Feel free to drop me a review!**


	17. Cooking

There is always music going off in our kitchen. It's something that has always been a constant with Fai, ever since we started traveling; he likes having background noise while he's cooking.

During our journey, the role of chef was usually placed on the mage, since he was really the only one who could make anything, aside from Sakura's occasional and unsuccessful attempts. When the three of us would crowd our way into the kitchen, eager for our meals, we were usually greeted with the sound of his voice humming softly or singing along to a quiet tune, giving himself something to get lost in during his preparations.

Once we got into more modern environments, we found newer technology that could play all kinds of music from one device. Fai took no time at all to find himself one that he liked, filling it with too many songs to count, most of which could be heard throughout the day playing in the kitchen.

Even after our journey slowed and eventually came to a standstill, Fai's passion for music never ceased. It didn't take me long to become accustomed to waking up in the morning to some form of music—the latest hit, or offbeat jazz, and everything in between. It's something I've grown to accept about him, over time. He's a person that doesn't like silence; he fills those empty spaces with music and talking, things to keep him occupied. And after so many years, I've become used to it, even expect it. That's just how he is, and I guess I can't argue against that.

Besides, what's there to argue about it? It's nice to have a familiar song always around, and the mage has a good taste in music. However, there have been instances, several in fact, where I blame the music for getting me into situations I usually would avoid.

The mage knows I tend to stay away from the kitchen for a very simple fact, aside from enjoying several plates of food; and that is the fact that I cannot cook, will not cook, and probably will never be successful at cooking. But, we all know how Fai is. He likes to push his boundaries.

. : : .

It was a Saturday, if I remember correctly, that I woke up one morning to sunlight pouring through the curtains and birds chirping outside. It was a nice day, and the realization made me muffle a groan into my pillow. I didn't feel like having a nice day. I was tired as hell, and the sun was outside with a goddamn smile on his face acting like everything was just swell with the world. As if.

I tried to go back to sleep several times before giving up, pulling myself to the side of my bed with a grumble and proceeding to start my morning routine. First a sluggish trip to the bathroom, then face washed, shaved, my uneven hair fixed with a little gel. Pants went on next, then a shirt, and lastly a long stretch to get the kinks out of my back. I rubbed my stomach over my black tee languidly and scowled, feeling the rumbles of hunger start to call. Time to fill the trough.

A few steps down the hall brought me to our living room, and I let out a yawn before heading into the kitchen, blinking tiredly.

"Hey, blondie," I mumbled, plunking down on a barstool. A soft tune was going off in the room, something along the lines of old R&B, and though I realized that breakfast hadn't been finished yet I decided, against my better judgment, to stay for a few minutes.

"Morning," Fai replied, currently making eggs. He turned a little towards me with a smile. "How'd you sleep…?"

"I'm tired."

He chuckled softly and shook his head. "You're always tired."

"Yeah, whatever." I rubbed my eyes a little and frowned. "What'cha makin'?"

"I don't really know yet. I was thinking about making a sort of egg sandwich with some salted salmon."

I raised my brows and hummed in agreement. "Sounds good." I knew I really should just leave and let him keep cooking, but the song had a good beat, and I was getting a little too comfortable in my chair. Fai noticed, too, and his blue eyes lingered on me a moment before he grinned, turning back to the stove. He leaned on the counter, silent for a few seconds before tapping his fingers lightly on the granite, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Hey, Kuro-sleepy…why don't you help me, hm?"

That snapped me awake. I sat up a little suddenly and my hands searched around the counter to find my escape. "Uh, no, I'm…I'm good," I fumbled, finding my gaze stuck on the dip in the blonde's back, and cursing myself for not being able to turn my damn head. "I, uh…"

Suddenly he was at my side, that smartass grin never leaving his lips.

"Oh, come now, Kurgy-wurgy, you make me do all the cooking…I wouldn't mind a little help now and then…" He settled his soft hands on my shoulders and guided me out of my chair, starting to move me towards the counter. I froze before turning around a little roughly with a growl.

"Fai, I don't—"

"Sure you do~ Old doggies can learn new tricks, right?"

He settled his hands on my chest and continued to push me back towards the counter. My eyebrow twitched.

"Now, let's see. A good employee must always wash their hands."

"Fai."

"No buts! Be a good doggy and wash your hands!"

He was poking my chest with his finger, scolding me like a little kid. I glared at him for a long moment before huffing out a breath and turning to the sink, quickly washing my hands.

"There."

"Thank you, Kuro-woof! Alright, now new chefs should always wear aprons, in case they make a mess…"

"An apron?" I glared at him as he bent down to retrieve something out of a cabinet drawer. "I don't need a fricken'—"

Then my face was suddenly covered in a wall of pink, and before I could do anything the blonde had already tied the thin strips of cloth around my neck and my waist. I looked down at myself before all but exploding.

"It has _ruffles_!" I roared, trying to claw the ungodly material off of me.

"It's cute~" Fai chided, smacking my hands. "Now stop it! You're going to help me cook."

My chest rumbled with a growl that promised murder as I took a few heaving breaths, my face burning.

"Fai, get this shit off me," I said, as calmly I could.

"Such a poor sport!"

"_Fai_."

Before I could register what had happened, the mage had taken my face into his cool hands, pulling me down until I was eye level with him. I stared at him bewilderedly until I felt his fingers sweep behind my ears, finding a strange nerve point that made my whole body grow still and my anger dissipate into a little shiver down my back.

"Now, Kuro," he murmured, those ice blue eyes flecking up to mine. "I'd like some help with cooking, okay…?" His voice had softened to a gentle coo and managed to hold my attention the same way a light would a fly. I tried to blink myself out of my sudden stupor, clearing my throat.

"O-Okay."

Fai's grin returned, all the more gleeful as he turned back to the stove.

"Great~! Okay, so first you need to learn how to cook eggs…" As the mage started babbling about cooking do's and don'ts, I found myself still slumped in the position he had drawn me into, staring dumbly at the wall. I pulled myself up and slapped my hands to my ears, rubbing the skin behind them sheepishly and furrowing my brows. "…Kuro, are you even listening?"

"Tche, yeah, sure," I mumbled, dropping my hands quickly and my face still feeling hot. Fai continued to have that knowing, annoying grin on his face as he proceeded to teach me how to cook, and it took me all but an hour to learn how to crack an egg properly and actually try to fry it. I suppose it didn't really get me anywhere, but nonetheless, I've managed to be able to learn how to make eggs over-easy. Whatever the hell that means.

. : : .

I still blame the music for getting me into that mess. Had I just left and minded my own business, I would have been just fine. In any case, I now have an immense hatred for pink, ruffles, and especially the two together. I have searched for weeks for that goddamn apron with a lighter in hand, but I still can't find the damn thing.

I have also made an important note to not let Fai get anywhere near my ears.

* * *

**Hello everyone, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I wanted to play around with some antics again, so here we go, cooking with Fai! And Kuro's like a big puppy with sensitive ears. Teehee. Thank you for reading and feel free to review! I hope everyone's having a good summer so far and continues to enjoy it :) Happy pre-4th of July!**


	18. Sick

During our journey, our group traveled throughout countless worlds, all owning a unique atmosphere and climate. Nine times out of ten, the newer worlds we landed in were complete opposites of the ones we had just been in, which ended up being more of a nuisance than anything.

Whether this was just a prank on Mokona's behalf, or Sakura's good luck starting to run out on us, I would never know—but I knew one thing damn well, and that was that I was sneezing into my sleeve for half the time.

Jumping from a boiling, barren country to one with avalanches around every turn did not agree with me. I have never been very prone to illnesses, but sudden changes to my body can certainly spring up a cold, especially when in one second I am half-naked and sweating buckets and heavily debating on taking off my pants, and the next I am bundled to my ears and still freezing my ass off.

Of course, it wasn't just the climate changes that seemed to enjoy kicking me in the back. For whatever reason, the most poisonous creatures always seemed to be attracted to me. Getting stung by three killer bees was not part of my bucket list, but thankfully Syaoran knew a thing or two about insects, and wasn't afraid to unleash a battle cry while repeatedly crushing a hairy, winged demon under his boot.

No matter the issue, whether it was the sudden swamping of humidity or the venomous bite of a microscopic pest, I ended up getting sick the most out of everyone in the group. I suppose I would have just swallowed my pride and moved on with the issue, except that there was a certain blonde constantly hovering over my shoulder.

I guess I should have been used to the mage's pestering by then, but there was one thing that always infuriated me about him, something that Fai took great pleasure in boasting whenever my stomach was a little less than golden.

It was a rarity that Fai ever got sick.

No matter what it was about the mage that annoyed me—the smartass grins, the cheap remarks, the constant nicknames and chiding—I have always held a grudge against his inability to get sick. The man must have had an immune system made of steel, and it just wasn't damn fair.

Despite the care Fai presented whenever an illness struck me, he still took pleasure in seeing a scowl break across my face, just from the fact that I was sick and he was not. I am not a particularly selfish person, but I can't deny that being ill certainly creates a greedy streak in me for everyone else to suffer just as much as I am.

However, just because Fai rarely got sick did not mean that he never did. Once our journey slowed down and we found ourselves switching between a modern home near the city and a few months of vacation in Nihon, I realized that it wasn't the little things that made Fai sick. He certainly had a strong immunity against those minor infections, but it was the big things that got him. Those waves of epidemics were the first things to hit him, and they hit him hard.

I always feel a ping of guilt at my delight for seeing payback. All those days of taunting and joking had finally got to him, and now he was sick and I was doing just great. But, of course, I couldn't necessarily look at it that way, either. Where my colds may only last a few days, Fai's last several weeks, and were usually a lot more impairing.

When he was my caretaker doing those days of injury and illness, our roles could suddenly be switched, leaving me to sit at his bedside and wait to get him what he needed. And honestly, I found I didn't mind that. Slower paces were kind of nice, and besides, Fai knew I appreciated what he did. I guess it was only fair I did the same.

Just as I said before, wounds have an ability to tone down a person, to make them more humble and grateful for what they are given. Sickness works the same way. It's only when I find myself doing those little things one does when tending to someone that I realize how much one side of me has softened.

To see that I've come from being a vengeful man with a sharp tongue, to someone who can manage patience and kindness shows a lot, for me; and though I may not expose that side often, I can tell from that tiny smile in the corner of Fai's lip that he knows, too.

. : : .

It's usually in the springtime that those cases of flu season come around, and Fai tends to follow the crowd.

With thunder going off in the distance and a steady stream of rain patting the window, I found myself only a few months ago standing, dumbfounded, in the kitchen. It had only been a few weeks before that the mage had dragged me into that room of terror and forced me to wear a frilly pink apron, purely for his own amusement. Naturally, I was still a little uneasy about standing anywhere near the stove.

But in any case, April showers cue the colds, and the trickling cough down the hall reminded me that Fai was in need of attention.

It was still early, around mid-morning, and despite Fai's protests to just get him a bowl of cereal, I wanted to make him a decent breakfast. People didn't eat soggy wheat crap when they were sick, they ate something warm and filling. So, my brow creased in determination, I stared at the carton of eggs I had pulled from the fridge.

Over-easy. Okay. _I can do this_.

Of course, I told myself that. Churning through my brain for the details on how to cook eggs, amidst the memory of the mage's fingers brushing against the back of my ears and his nails scraping gently along the base of my jaw, I found myself staring off at the counter.

I took me a moment, but I hastily pulled my wits together, flustered and inwardly complaining about those damned soft fingers. I grabbed one egg and, very hesitantly, managed to crack it successfully into the pan. Hell yes. Confidence restored.

Ten minutes later, I fumbled awkwardly into Fai's room, carrying a plate of one somewhat over-easy egg and two pieces of half-charred toast. Pretty good, coming from someone who burns water.

Fai, paler than usual despite the flush in his cheeks, peeked up at me from under the expanse of his duvet, his eyes narrowing.

"I said you could make me cereal," he croaked, but the faint glow of appreciation in his eyes was enough for me to feel the effort wasn't wasted.

"Tche, whatever," I grumbled, sitting down on his bedside, "You need to eat." I set the plate on his lap and handed him a fork, studying him for a moment.

"You sure you're okay?"

Fai raised his brows.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Doing better, I guess," he murmured. His voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat, trying a bite of the egg. A tired smile spread over his lips. "Look at you~…my little apprentice. I told you old doggies could learn new tricks."

"Feh. As if. I just, uh…waited until it was, uh…y'know…ready."

A knowing twinkle emerged in his eyes, and he playfully patted his fist against my temple.

"Don't lie, Kuro—you enjoy it, don't you? I can have you cooking up all sorts of stuff in no time—"

"_No_. I am fine, I just wanted you to eat." I hesitated slightly. "At least, if it's edible."

Fai chuckled, "It's great, Kuro-poo." He took a bite of the charred toast, the crunch making me cringe. "Even these little burned bits." And he chuckled again, pausing to suppress a cough.

"You want some cough medicine?"

His brows quirked as another set of coughs rattled his chest, and he sighed when the fit was over, frowning slightly.

"Maybe a little bit…" He looked at me a moment, before a warm smile spread over his face. "But really, Kuro." Those stupid, soft fingers patted my arm. "Thanks."

I didn't really know what to say, transfixed by that tender blue color always in his eyes, and still staring at him when he started eating again. I blinked a little and turned away.

"Yeah, sure."

Between checking up on him a few more times, and wringing out a cool washcloth to press to his forehead, I decided I really didn't mind taking care of the blonde. I mean, right, he was annoying and all, and had an endless list of nicknames and knew just what to do to piss me off. But, at the same time, he knew just what to do to calm me down.

Ever since he was turned into a vampire, he became my responsibility. And that's something that will probably never change.

I'm responsible for him when he steps over the line, and when he doesn't step far enough. When he sinks into those pits of depression, I'm responsible for pulling him out. And when he's sick, I'm responsible for taking care of him.

But I suppose it's those times when he is sick, tired and weary and unable to do much for himself, that I feel the most affected by that responsibility. It's in those times that I see how much I have changed, how far I have come, and, surprisingly, how I don't mind that.

Sometimes, I find myself actually grateful for those times that Fai gets sick. Not only because it lets me see that change, but because it gives me an opportunity to make him slow down. The mage has always been high-strung, always wanting to please others and yet not leaving time for himself.

I know he needs that time to relax, and that he's grateful for me to give it to him, even if he doesn't say it directly.

Anyways, despite all this, I still hate the fact that I am sick far more than he is. But I can't deny that it's given me the chance to appreciate all the care he puts in while I'm sick, and the fact that I can return that to him, when he needs it.

Because out of all the things he needs, I think it is that care that he needs the most.

* * *

**Alright guys, here you go, another chapter! Whoo! This one is a little more sappy (who am I kidding, this screams sap), but you have some more poetic and kinda deep musings from Kurgy. I know I haven't really gone into great detail about his character development over the series, so I feel like this chapter steps up to make that more noticeable. But I did enjoy writing this, and after a few text-swaps in certain places, I feel like this is the best version to publish. So, yeah!**

***NOTICE***

**Just to let you guys know, the next chapter will be the final chapter for the story! I will also (at long last, I know how long some of you have been waiting) bring in the relationship into the story. So, finally, you can have some KuroFai. I have been working on this fanfic from 2011, so it's kind of saddening to realize it will be over soon. However, I am debating doing an epilogue that will probably be in third-person, to just kind of wrap up the story and give it some fluff. Let me know if you are interested for that, and I can start working on it! I want to thank all my readers again, and I really appreciate all the reviews this story has and is recieving. So thank you all, and please continue to read and review :)**


	19. Mine

People always told us it would happen, at some point.

I heard it in every world. Wandering gazes seemed fixed to the mage's childish floundering at my side and my irritated frown, and suddenly we had groups of people asking questions that were _far_ too personal for my liking. Fai only giggled, and after spitting out retorts to drive the pestering debauchees away, I demanded he stop poking my cheek.

We were just traveling companions. That was _it_. And be damned if I didn't get sick of explaining it. But, as with everything, even the strongest of denial can weaken over time.

The more I started cracking into that shell of his, the closer we became. And after those months of journeying in and out of dimensions, with him fighting at my side, and the warmth of his back against mine as we slept, I didn't know what to call us. In all honesty, I didn't care.

We contrasted each other in everything we did—our fighting styles, our speech, our actions, our temperaments. We were like fire and water; earth and sky; summer and winter; day and night. A dragon and a phoenix.

Yuuko called it destiny. I called it overactive female hormones.

Even Sakura and Syaoran, of all people, seemed to be in on it, a realization I would never understand. They would peek into our room in the morning with cringes lingering just under their faces, as if expecting to walk in on some steamy immodesty that would forever scar them. I would give them a glare as I pulled on my shirt, unable to help growling a rough, "The hell, kid?" at their wandering eyes.

Then there was Fai, bursting out of the sheets with an improvised story dancing from his tongue, all gushy-eyed and breathy and giving just enough fake details to make the kids hightail out of the room, blurting apologies. We would both get lost in our snickering, then, their expressions all too priceless. If there was one thing we had in common, it was our twisted sense of humor.

The pranks lasted enough to get us a few laughs, but it didn't take long for the two to catch on. The kids were smart, at least when they allowed themselves to be. But even after the jokes, they still had their suspicions.

I never really understood it. What was it about the two of us that made everyone immediately jump to conclusions, and highly fantasized ones, at that?

Of course, Yuuko was the worst. We couldn't spend one day visiting her shop without her inquiring, "Well?", and us giving her a blank look before replying, "Well, what?" She eventually got around to not asking the question and just scowled at us instead.

For a long time, that was how things progressed. There was joking and playful retorts, and the conclusion that Yuuko was a crazed fanatic who believed anyone within a two mile radius of her should be together.

For a long time, we didn't think about it.

We continued living the way we did, and we didn't care. We traveled together, and ate together, and slept together, and we were okay with it. That was just how things were.

But then, slowly, something changed. It just kind of hit me one day, walking along the puddled streets of a modern world, the sound of light rain patting against an umbrella hoisted above me and the smell of wet leaves and damp earth filling my nose. It was autumn. Fai had always told me he liked this season; there was a pleasant crispness in the air, and he liked hearing raindrops and skittering leaves.

Walking next to him that day, giving in to his puppy-eyed pout to try a sip of spiced tea, I realized that somewhere, deep down inside that burliness of me, I liked this. I liked walking beside him, listening to his soft rambling, and watching that sparkle emerge in his eyes when he laughed. I liked the fluffiness of his hair, and the smell of his skin on his clothes after he had slept, and the way his fingers always moved when he talked. I liked the things only I knew about him, and the things everyone else knew. I always would.

Looking at him, then, the taste of the tea still in my mouth, not a flavor I would particularly enjoy but something that instantly reminded me of him, I found myself leaning forward. Fai blinked at me a little, becoming silent at my bent head, and I wondered for a moment just what I was doing and why.

Had all that Yuuko nonsense actually gotten to me? Had the kids with their stupid assumptions made me think that maybe, just maybe, they weren't so far off? No, the witch must have snuck some damn spell crap into that tea…

Regardless of what it was, something possessed me to brush Fai's chin with my thumb, and my throat felt tight, I swallowed to clear the feeling but it was still there, and the chill wasn't getting to me anymore because for some reason my skin felt hot, and then I tilted his head up. Slowly, softly. And our lips touched.

It didn't last long.

It was short and light, and when we parted I could still feel the outline of his mouth against mine. He stared at me, wide-eyed for a moment, until his hand reached out to gently grab one of the lapels of my jacket and draw me down again. This time it was slower, and it made my teeth ache.

That realization rushed into me, then, just what everyone had always assumed and chided us about, everything I thought was stupid and pointless until I got a taste of something genuine. I wanted to kick myself.

What the hell had I been missing?

It marked a starting point for us, then, although we both know that wasn't necessarily the beginning. We don't know when it started, or how, but it did; and when we finally gave Yuuko the reply she had been waiting for, she gathered everything she needed for an instant party. Somewhat to my annoyance, no one, not even the freaking pork bun, was surprised at the revelation.

In any case, that was how it really started with us, and that's how it always has been. But it was more than just coming to terms with something that both of us had silently questioned but not truly considered, until then; more than just having a realization and moving on. It was something that had always been there, something that simply strengthened over time.

It started when I first saw that wide grin on his face; when I truly got to know him in Yama; when I paid the price for his life in Tokyo; when I saved him in Celes. It started last year, last month, today. It was omnipresent and nowhere at the same time, because it was just us.

Out of all the things about him, everything I've discovered, everything I knew from the beginning and never knew, the thing that solidifies that is one fact. From the beginning of whenever this complex relationship started, we have always been there for each other. No matter the grudges we've held, he's always been there for me, and now, after those times I really got to see through him, I've always been there for him.

I don't care what you call us. You can call us traveling companions, friends, brothers, lovers. But of everything I've understood about him, there are these things that stand out the most:

He has blue eyes, cornflower blue eyes, and blonde hair.

He is talented in many aspects.

He has had nightmares, and he is a vampire, and a knight, to me.

He is a toucher, and a cuddle-monster, and he is kind.

He is a pianist.

He wears nice clothes, and has a nice body.

He has depression.

He will dance and sing awfully when he is drunk, and he likes snowball fights, and he is a god at cooking.

He has changed me, and he has helped me realize what really matters in life.

And he is mine.

* * *

**Alright guys, here we are! The last official chapter to OTF :) I did get a few responses saying they would like that third-person epilogue to the story, so I will write that soon to be the final installment to the story, and then it will be finished. I really appreciate everything you guy have said in your reviews, and all the people that have favorited and followed this story. It means a lot! I hope you guys look foward to the epilogue and that anyone who is in school is having a good year so far. Thank you so much for your continued support for the story, and please continue to read and review :)**


	20. Epilogue

**A/N - This was supposed to be a short and sweet third-person epilogue that tied up some loose ends and gave a cute insight to life after the journey. It turned into a 2k+ one-shot that can partially stand alone until the end. Oh well. Angst and fluff abound. Enjoy!**

* * *

It was raining when he awoke.

The thin screens surrounding them did little to block out the noise of a steady drizzle outside, and with a slow sigh, eyes fluttering open, Fai breathed in the thick smell of damp pine mixed with a subtle, floral hint of cherry blossoms.

_Nihon._

They had been here a few weeks, already. He remembered this absentmindedly as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, but time always seemed to flee from him when they stayed in this quiet sanctuary of theirs. A rush of heat drew his attention to the dozing head by his arm, and he felt a smile twitch at his lips as another breath fanned against his skin. The silence was broken by a low snore.

Fai fought down a giggle. Kurogane never admitted to snoring, although when provoked—_Kuro-poo, you sound like a burly bear!_—he scarcely held back from launching into a gruff tirade that blamed all of his sleeping issues on a certain cuddly blonde. In the back of his mind, Fai supposed a part of that could be true. But it was never reason enough for him to stop his chiding.

Even after all these years, he could never get enough of seeing childish rage bloom across that tanned face.

In one moment, the man that was every inch a warrior—broad, powerful, with eyes that promised cold-blooded murder to an enemy and humbly swore protection to those he guarded—could transform into a pride-deprived youth, yelling about how _no_, he _did not_ have an ass like one of Michelangelo's famed creations, and that the idiot mage needed to _shut the hell up_.

No matter how many times the games of dog-and-cat ensued, or the blonde was faced with a rough clap to the head while being growled at for being a damn tease, Fai always found himself getting a laugh out of it.

But there were also times like these, when the play-fighting had settled down and was replaced with a comfortable silence instead, that he enjoyed.

Running his fingers slowly through loose strands of raven hair, Fai watched his companion sleeping at his side. The rain created a tranquil form of white noise, a combination of soft pitter-pats and the trickle of the creek in the garden behind them; a quiet moment of nothingness, of peace, that drew his eyelids down. It was always quiet, here.

Sometimes that silence was too much, for him. Sometimes he just needed to be around things, just needed to keep moving. It was why they hadn't settled here permanently, not yet. But Kurogane understood that about him, and he was willing to wait.

Fai's gaze wandered lazily over the shinobi's sleeping face, following the relaxed form of his brow, the curve of his cheek; the dusting of stubble on his jaw, and the scar that hooked across it. He seemed so relaxed, when he slept. So at ease. But Fai knew it was more than that. It was being here, serving under her Highness Tomoyo again; being able to be home.

Home.

Thin fingers moved to rest over Kurogane's left shoulder, and Fai wondered, idly, if this place—this sanctuary of peace and quiet and protection—would become his home. He had never really had something permanent in his life to be called such, nothing except for the man that lay by him now, that had always stood there for him and shielded him with such strength and care and told him that things would be okay.

_Someday_. His fingertips ghosted over the curve of Kurogane's throat, brushing the line of firm collarbones. _Definitely someday_.

He knew it was what the shinobi wanted, ever since the prospect of their journey being able to end had been presented to them. Kurogane wanted to come home; he wanted to return to his life, enjoy it again, and he wanted Fai to be with him. And Fai wanted it, too. He would settle down in a heartbeat, breathe in this air of promise and new beginning and allow himself to change. He would—he would give up everything for this new life—except for the part of him that wouldn't.

He had always been running from things in his life. His past, his future; life, death. Both the bad and good. And after all this time, he just wasn't sure if he was ready to stop.

_Not just yet_.

Fai nuzzled into the small space that had been left for him, the space he had awoken from, nestled between the soft skin of Kurogane's real shoulder and the warmth of his chest. He smelled like earth, and autumn, and rain and fog. Everything Fai loved. He smelled like Nihon. He smelled like home.

It would be soon, that transition. Soon. But Fai knew he still needed time.

Reluctantly pulling himself from his lover's drowsy embrace, Fai stretched his arms over his head and sighed. The air that came into the room was cool, a different kind of chill than he was used to, and he liked it. Not the biting cold of wind and snow, but a freshness, something like water and clean air and mountaintops.

He stepped over to the rice screen that opened up to the decking outside, retying his lopsided kimono over his thin form. It seemed their clothes always ended up partially discarded when they slept, but only because the warmth of skin, of life, had always been more of a comfort, to him.

Resting his hand on the wooden support beam by the screen, Fai slid the thin door to the side, the light _shhh_ of the rain drowning out everything else and the cool, damp air rushing into him. His eyes slid closed, savoring this simple moment of his, winding its way into his memory of everything that was and always had been a memoir of this country.

The rain. The forests. The gardens. The seasons. Summer, and fall, and winter and spring. The food and the people and the customs and the culture. Tomoyo-hime's open arms.

Everything was so tranquil, here. So transitional and so placid.

The wind caught something, then, fluttering into the room to create a rustling of parchment on one of the small cabinets by the oil lamps. Fai paused from his reverie and blinked somewhat, turning to notice a small stack of papers on the thin wooden box. He hadn't noticed them before, if they had even been there before; their time spent here was more for wandering along the castle and in the comfort of each other's presence than exploring their room.

This was Kurogane's room, he remembered.

He moved curiously over to the cabinet and lifted the papers from its polished lid. They were loosely tied by a frayed string, and he paused a moment. Perhaps these were something private of his. It was rude of him to be snooping around, even if openness was a foundation of their relationship. Kurogane had made certain of that.

Hesitation continued to keep his fingers still a moment more before he untied the small stack, setting the string back on the cabinet. He moved some of papers along his fingers, examining them with a newfound curiosity.

Some of the pages seemed very old, stained with water and splatters of mud; some were frayed at the edges and softened by touch. It was a collection of papers, from opaque rice-based pages to the thick, crisp whiteness of the paper they had found in modern worlds. On all of the pages, though, was a familiar, structured script of Nihongo characters. Kurogane's handwriting.

Fai could speak the language decently—it hadn't taken him all that long to pick up simple dialect—but reading the characters had been a struggle for him. It had taken frequent months of journeying back and forth to here—Kurogane had wanted him to learn in an environment he could practice in—to at least get the basics, but he knew the shinobi gave him far more credit than he was worth. He could still barely read simple scripts, just enough to get him by.

Squinting at the small swipes and lines of ink, Fai mouthed the words he could understand subconsciously, flipping through a few pages carefully before noticing a connection through several of the pages: his name appeared in almost all of them. He felt his brows raise in surprise. Kurogane certainly wasn't a poetic type—or maybe he was? Had he been missing a golden opportunity to tease him all this time?—and the structure of the texts was puzzling. Were they stories? The other man certainly wouldn't be the type to keep a diary, and if that was the case, there would be no reason for him to bring up his name throughout all of them unless it was posing many, many complaints.

In that case, it could be a diary.

Fai chuckled faintly at this realization, and decided that curiosity got the best of him. He turned to inquire about his discovery when he saw that Kurogane, clearly confused at the loss of his presence at his side, had shifted across the plush futon with one arm slung out and his head smushed in a position that looked terribly uncomfortable. Fai couldn't help himself and laughed aloud.

"Ngh?" Kurogane grumbled, sluggishly starting to rouse. The sound of the mage's laughter drew him further into consciousness with another growl and a curse before the shinobi pulled himself up a little gruffly.

"The hell, man?" he slurred, exhaustion and the sudden movement of just waking leaving him to slip back onto his stomach with a tired groan, "Ugh. Why'd you…open a win'ow…"

"I opened the _screen_," Fai corrected with a chuckle, "And I have a question for you."

"Mh."

"What's this?" His lips pressed inquisitively, Fai gestured to the thin stack of papers in his grasp. At the lack of response, his mouth twisted into a pout. "Kurgy." He huffed out a faint sigh, pressing his foot into the larger man's back with a slight whine, "Kur_gyyyy_—"

"Wha…?"

"This. What is it?"

Tired crimson eyes slid over to glare at the mage's bright blue ones, before falling to the item of question in his grasp.

"Oh."

"Oh?" Fai's brow quirked up just slightly. He paused before continuing, "They, uhm…I keep seeing my name in here."

Kurogane nodded somewhat bluntly. "Yeah."

"Yeah? So…what are they?"

A twinge of pink crept onto tanned cheeks. "Well, uh…" The shinobi sat up with a yawn. "They're about you."

"About me?"

"Yeah."

Fai blinked a little, his fingers unconsciously fiddling on the papers. "Like…bad things?"

"No," Kurogane blurted, looking up at him with a puzzled expression. "No."

"Then…good things?"

"Well, uh…I guess, yeah."

"Stories, then?"

"Sort of."

"But good things…"

"Yeah."

Fai paused, staring at the other man for a long moment before a grin cracked slowly over his face.

"You wrote musings about me."

Kurogane turned stone-still on the futon, a flustered expression crossing his face before he swung around, red-faced and spluttering, fuming some retort about protecting manhood and how he did _not_ write musings, and it just sounded like their usual banter, to Fai. He only grinned wider.

"Yes you did! Oh, how romantic, Kuro-chi, how _romantic_, you wrote _musings_ about me!"

"No I didn't—what the hell even are musings—?!"

"They're little thoughts and stories about someone," Fai held up one finger, blabbering off with prided intelligence, "You know, reflections, observations—usually on someone you care about. Don't deny it!" The words came out in an excited rush, and his breath slowed only afterwards, blue eyes wide and playful as he paused, catching his lower lip between his teeth. "That's what these are, aren't they?"

His head snapping the other direction, Kurogane grumbled, his cheeks brightening. The excitement came right back.

"Oh, they are! _My_, have you turned soft."

"Shaddup! And will you quit bouncing up and down like some rabbit on steroids?!"

Fai darted over to the warrior, his arms linking slowly around his neck.

"Oh, shh," he giggled, placing a soft kiss on the other man's temple. "I'm just surprised. I would have never thought you'd be the kind of person to do that sort of thing. I'm quite flattered, actually," he added quietly, his smile lightening. His lips wandered down to peck along the shell of Kurogane's ear, and he chuckled at the rough wiggling than ensued to try to tear him off. "Hey, now~ Don't be mean just because I found out. I'm interested, now—you wrote a lot."

Kurogane, grumbling still and, despite his attempts to cease it, red-faced as ever, only huffed out a snort.

"Tche."

"Oh, don't be a bad sport!" Fai chided, pearly whites flashing in a playful grin. However, the rush of energy that had come from catching the other man in yet another practice to be teased had been too much for him to ignore, and now that the truth had come out, his tone had softened into a quiet whisper, and the gaze that had fallen to a tanned shoulder was simple and tender as he rested his head against the warrior's. "Will you read them to me?"

Kurogane became very silent, but the slight change in his body language as he cleared his throat seemed to give a simple enough answer. Fai childishly clapped away at his victory, but the lingering interest of his form was still there, and he settled gently into other man's lap with the anticipation of a reader waiting for the ending to a great novel.

"Which one do you want?" Kurogane muttered, taking the papers lightly from Fai's fingers as he nestled his forearms at the smaller man's sides.

"The first one," the blonde murmured, "and then the rest of them." He smiled widely.

"All of them?"

"All of them."

Shaking his head somewhat, the shinobi couldn't resist letting a faint smirk twitch at the corner of his lips, and he searched through the riled papers before finding one of the first ones he wrote—stained and faded, added to along the way of their journey, a continuation of one of the things that had grabbed his attention off the bat of their acquaintance.

"_'My first impression of Fai was that he was an idiot'_," he started a little awkwardly, and Fai giggled. "_'Not exactly stupid, though don't get me wrong, he could be one hell of a moron sometimes'_..."

It was about his eyes.

Fai tucked up his knees, his gaze becoming faraway as he listened. He burrowed into the man's chest and smiled faintly, chuckling at some parts and becoming silent in thought in others.

Kurogane, of course, didn't read all of them in one setting. But he read a few. And at Fai's bright-eyed pout for him to read more, he vowed they would finish them over the course of their trip.

And listening to the rumbling baritone behind him, the quiet words that described things here and there; about their journey, about his character, about things that happened between them; Fai found that the uncertainty for settling down was starting to ease up a little more.

Kurogane, the warrior and the chaser, Big Doggy, Daddy, the killer with a soft heart, in everything that he was, was a home to Fai. And as he listened to the rain, to the sound of his voice, those quiet musings that spoke so much in those short passages, Fai breathed out a slow sigh.

_Yes_, he thought, his eyes sinking closed, as the cool air brought in the scent of rain and earth around them, _I could get very used to this_.

* * *

**-fin-**

**I'm not really sure how this one shot swept into a detailed contemplation about Fai and staying in Nihon, but I feel like since the majority of the story has focused on Kurogane's emotions and thought process, I think I just ended up switching sides and focusing on Fai's reactions, instead. I know a few readers brought up the idea that I should do a parallel fic about Fai's musings on Kurogane, so maybe this gave an insight to what that would be like!**

**Anyways. Good old third-person. I've been doing first-person POV so long with this fic that doing this one shot had me cracking my knuckles and spiraling into big description paragraphs, and before I knew it, I was over 2,600 words. Well. That's what happens when I write third person. But did that feel great. Guess what that means? More one-shots and possibly chapter fics coming up!**

**So, in any case, this is the official end to OTF. I really appreciate everyone that has read, fav'd, and reviewed this fic, because it really helped me with motivation and ways to help improve it. So I thank you all!**

**For those who don't know, I post updates on fics that I am considering on making/in the process on making on my bio, and it gives brief descriptions or summaries on what they're about. Feel free to give any comments on those fics in a review or a PM, or if you have any prompts you would like me to write, I will gladly do those too! So again, thanks to all my readers, I had a great time writing this fic and I am sure there will be more KuroFai in the future :)**


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